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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



BOOKS BY HORATIO W. DRESSER. 



THE POWER OF SILENCE. 

An Interpretation of Life in its Rela- 
tion to Health and Happiness. 

THE PERFECT WHOLE. 

An Essay on the Conduct and Mean- 
ing of Life. 

IN SEARCH OF A SOUL. 

A series of Essays in Interpretation 
of the Higher Nature of Man. 

VOICES OF HOPE. 

A series of Essays on the Problem of 
Life, Optimism, and the Christ. Each 
volume, cloth, gilt top, #1.50, postpaid. 

THE HEART OF IT. 

Selections from " The Power of Si- 
lence " and "The Perfect Whole." 
75 cents, postpaid. 



IN PREPARATION. 



A Treatise on The New Thought in its 
Relation to Exact Philosophy. 



GEO. H. ELLIS, 
41 Franklin Street, Boston, Mass. 



VOICES OF HOPE 



AND OTHER MESSAGES FROM THE HILLS 



A Series of Essays on the Problem of Life, Optimism, 
and the Christ 



BY 



HORATIO W. DRESSER 

il 

Author of "The Power of Silence," "The Perfect Whole," "In Search of a Soul " 



'Defeated day by day, but unto victory born."— Browning. 



BOSTON 
Geo. H. Ellis, 141 Franklin Street 

189S 



" 






30553 



COPYRIGHT, 1898 

BY 

HORATIO WILLIS DRESSER 

Entered at Stationer 1 s Hall 



A II Rights Reserved 



J 



GEO. H. ELLIS, PRINTER, 141 FRANKUN STREET, BOSTON, MASS., U.8.A. 






"v 



4 



s? 



So mg jFrtenlJ 
HENRY WOOD 



PREFACE. 



One of the most beautiful scenes in Nature is the re- 
awakening of the mountain summits after the darksome 
days of a summer storm. Slowly and hesitatingly at first, 
great masses of clouds roll along the lower slopes and rise 
from the deep ravines. Then a long gleam of sunlight falls 
across great reaches of forest and rock in earnest of what is 
to follow. Here and there a snowy peak looks out, but im- 
mediately withdraws, as if in doubt as to its right to reveal 
its wintry purity. But, after a time, the lingering clouds 
disperse with surprising rapidity ; and the towering heights 
stand out in all their glory. What words can picture the 
beauty of the scene now spread before the eager vision of 
one who has for days awaited its coming ? The time is too 
sacred to spend in ordinary occupations. One must ascend 
some neighboring hill, and yield the senses to receptive en- 
joyment. There is an inspiration in the atmosphere which 
gives wings even to the feet ; and one is drawn irresistibly 
higher and higher, until an entire horizon of ice-clad peaks 
is defined against the cloudless blue of heaven. No record 
of facts could reveal the charm of such a day. Then only 
can every feature of the landscape be accurately observed, 
and the mind delights for a time in mere contemplation of 
details. But, when the soft light of evening falls upon the 



mountain heights, and the brighter glare of day gives place 
in blending succession to gold and pink and the marble-like 
whiteness of twilight, all details are lost in the harmony of 
the whole, — the oneness of mood of Nature and the be- 
holder. The soul has absorbed somewhat which it shall 
never lose. Neither prose nor poetry could tell what. 
It was Nature's exhibition day, her smiling mood, her 
optimism. It was the stern dignity of resistless law, touched 
by the soft beauty of the ideal whose servant it is. It was 
life attaining its proper level, pausing for a moment, then 
plunging into the uncertainties and triumphs of another 
day. 

The mind detects a close analogy between this climax 
of Nature's attainments and the successive aspirations of 
human life. Of such transformations all experience is com- 
pounded. The world loves mystery, if not darkness, with 
all that its obscurity conceals. But there is an instinct 
which seeks the clear visions of cloudless thought. One 
cannot tear the clouds away. These displays of Nature's 
supreme beauty never come when one most urgently seeks 
them, but in her own secret way ; and you must quickly ob- 
serve while the vision lasts. Yet even a cloudless day will 
not admit us to the full perception of the meaning of life. 
In these days of scientific daring we have learned much 
about the mere configuration of existence. Life is as 
mathematical as the sternest could demand. Pay its price, 
and you shall have what you seek. The prudent will some- 
time learn to live here in perfect health by obeying Nature's 
mental and physical laws. For action and reaction are 



equal. Action em'anates from within, depends on the state 
of development, and may be improved indefinitely by 
sharpening the wisdom of choice. Yet exactness is only 
the prose of beauty. " Life is real, life is earnest." But 
the way to live it successfully is to be alive also to its 
poetry. Agnosticism has peered at the sharp summits of 
life, until it is blind to the transfigured light which alone 
reveals their true worth. Life is to be contemplated, en- 
joyed, as well as analyzed and rendered exact. At times it 
is simply to be observed appreciatively, as one gazes in 
rapture at the mountains. 

Without assuming to know life's secret, I shall address 
myself to the sceptic, the lonely soul, and the troubled 
heart, and try, as an observer of our human world and a 
lover of Nature, to share some of the facts and beauties 
gathered along the way as I have watched the glorious 
awakening of the mountain summits of life. The following 
essays and papers, written at different times, seem to throw 
light upon one another, and to voice the optimistic mood. 
The volume contains the substance of courses of lectures 
delivered in Boston, New York, and Philadelphia ; and some 
of the chapters have been in part published in the Journal 
of Practical Metaphysics, but the revision has been such 
as to make the book practically new, as well as the expres- 
sion of a greater hope. The sceptic may object that the 
mind easily conceives false hopes, and that it were wiser to 
describe life at its worst. But the author sincerely believes 
the optimistic mood to be the only one which reveals the 
fulness of life. Pessimism is ignorance, cloudland, and 



8 



sleep. We are awake when we are hopeful, when we stand 
upon the mountain top and enjoy a commanding view. 
Pessimism is a sign of disease : it withers and blights. 
Optimism beholds all that pessimism saw in the gloomy 
vales, and more, — even the source of the dark rivulets 
which wear away their wooded slopes. But the author does 
not insist on just his optimism. Nor does he wish to 
preach, — only to return to the universe some measure of 
the beauty it has bestowed upon him, to express the joy of 
living in this well ordered world. In other volumes he has 
worded this faith before. It is a delight to express it again, 
almost a necessity to share it. He believes, too, that the 
" wicked world " will sometime respond. It is neither 
incurably pessimistic nor pernicious. It still has much to 
learn from the enjoyment and study of nature ; and these 
lessons shall sometime teach man how to be not only 
happy, but good. 

Persons are frequently disappointing, the mountains 
never. But the world is awakening to the beauties of 
the perfect mountain day. We can prepare ourselves for 
its coming by giving ourselves over to the contemplation 
of beauty, by making its realization an end in life, by cul- 
tivating beautiful thoughts, and by being true to hope. 
The world was built in beauty. Every day, every hour, is 
full of revelation of truth and beauty — for him who has 
eyes to see it. The entire responsibility is therefore placed 
upon the individual. A man might stand unawed before a 
glacier-covered mountain, if absorbed in the pessimism of 
self. Pessimism is but another name for egoism : it has 



a truth to teach ; but it is barely the beginning of the full- 
est beauty and truth of life. There is a way out of misery 
to the heights of happiness and peace. But they are the 
heights of virtue and the Christ. We need not complain 
of the universe. We need not charge evil to some god of 
our own creation. The trouble lies within, and every atom 
must be purified. There is no half-way solution. There is 
no easy road to the Alps of thought. But the goal is worth 
all efforts to attain it. Down the steep slopes, from the 
beautiful pasture lands, the voices of hope are carried to 
the toiling traveller. The joyous babbling of the brook, the 
gentle beauty of the flowers, and the happy jodel of the 
peasant, all seem to express this hope, this merry optimism 
of Nature, and to be in keeping with the dignity of the 
mountains. All the universe rejoices in glad recognition of 
its Maker. All the music of the spheres is attuned to the 
key-note of hope. Out of the heart of humanity arises the 
response of love. 

Murren, Switzerland, 
July, 1898. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTKR PAGE 

I. The Problem of Life 13 

II. The Basis of Optimism . 40 

III. Character-building 66 

IV. A Sceptic's Paradise 88 

V. The Omnipresent Spirit 98 

VI. The Problem of Evil 118 

VII. The Escape from Subjectivity . . . 129 

VIII. Love . 137 

IX. The Spiritual Life 151 

X. The Christ 181 

XI. The Progressing God 197 



THE PROBLEM OF LIFE.* 

This passing moment is an edifice 
Which the Omnipotent can not rebuild. 

Emerson. 

When one looks forth upon the fair world of 
nature, marvellously wrought and bearing number- 
less evidences of the wisest foresight, or considers 
the great realm of mind where the beauties of 
nature are transformed into literature, art, and 
science, the question inevitably suggests itself: 
Whence came it all ? What does it all mean ? 
Whither is the great stream of life tending? 
This is an old, old question, — the problem of life. 
Each of us has proposed it again and again. Each 
of us has again and again been thrown back in 
deepened scepticism or apparent defeat. Yet we 
continually look out on life in the same spirit of 
wonder, marvelling at its strange assemblage of joys, 
sorrows, surprises, doubts, and victories ; the com- 
ing and going of its odd specimens of humanity ; 
its throngs of hurrying, laboring, or pleasure-loving 
people ; and its ceaseless movement toward some 

* A paper read before the Lothrop Club, February, 1898. 



14 

far-away goal. Each time our wonderment inspires 
greater eagerness to master and publish its secret. 
Each time a fresh answer to the baffling question 
brings greater satisfaction than the solution of 
some time-honored system. Some way of meeting 
the problem is implied in the attitude each of us 
assumes in daily life. The belief haunts us that 
the meaning of our individual struggle may yet be 
known. And thus, ever relentlessly, and with un- 
wavering hope, the human spirit sends itself forth, 
once more and yet again, essaying to interpret 
both the beauty and hardship of the universe. 

The great problem has been variously stated, 
and is probably suggested to each observer in 
different terms. To some the question comes 
forcibly, Is life worth living at all ? For many the 
matter resolves itself into this : Must we take life 
as we find it, passively accepting circumstances as 
they come ? Or, if we conclude that man is an 
active agent in life's evolution, how are we to play 
our part most successfully ? How may we attain 
the greatest amount of happiness or amass the 
most wealth ? While the philosopher asks, What 
is life for? his interest is usually technical, with 
slight regard for the demands of practical life ; and 
nearly every way of putting the great question 
suggests an equal neglect of some phase of life 
which to another is of foremost importance. 

The thesis I shall maintain is that for all these 



15 

aspects of life's problem there is but one adequate 
solution. The way to know if life be worth living 
is for each to live and understand it in its fullest 
sense, sound its hopes, and try its possibilities. To 
become happy or spiritual, one must not seek these 
ends alone, but round out all sides of human char- 
acter. The philosopher shall not understand the 
laws which govern the living universe, nor can he 
interpret its full beauty and meaning by sitting 
apart and observing life's changing play. He, too, 
must live, must have a rich social experience. To 
comprehend its harmony, he must become in har- 
mony with it, since to know means first to be, 
then to think. A priori reasoning is likely to lead 
one astray. We may think we know what life will 
be before we live it. We construct beautiful theo- 
ries. But the test alike of faith and of theory is 
experience. Hence to know what beauty is, what 
love is, what the Christ is, man must himself 
become beautiful, he must love, must fashion his 
conduct after the Christ ideal. The richest expe- 
rience shall then give birth to the truest theory, and 
he only shall be competent to speak whose life ex- 
emplifies the truth he utters. There is no solution 
of life's problem short of this, either in its intel- 
lectual or its practical aspects. It is a problem 
which must be solved by actual life carried to its 
ultimate stage, where each soul has lived, suffered, 
overcome, thought, and been perfected, until, true 



i6 



to the universal will and strong on all sides of his 
nature, word, deed, head, hand, and heart shall tell 
the same beautifully consistent story. 

The starting-point is to take ourselves as we 
exist to-day, and gradually realize this grand ideal 
as applied to our particular mind and heart, — to 
begin first with knowledge of one's own lower and 
higher nature. Our situation in life is somewhat 
like this. We awake to consciousness to find our- 
selves played upon by a universe of conflicting 
forces. Irresistibly, as the tide rolls in upon a 
sandy shore, the incoming stream of sensation is 
brought before the mind. Marvellous is this flow 
of the great river of consciousness, bearing into the 
inner world, where the soul sits in contemplation, 
its interplay of pains and pleasures, the frivolities 
and shows of the world, its joys, its strifes and 
crimes, its sympathies, its eccentricities, and its 
tales of heroism. Remarkable, too, is the endlessly 
varying play of thought and emotion aroused by 
this incoming tide. The soul sits in wonder, or in 
doubt and despair, long before it can begin to see 
any meaning in this ceaseless interaction between 
the world without and the mind within. We are 
plainly left in ignorance, not only of the reason 
why we are here, but of the wisest way to live. 
Evidently, the God who put us here loves us with 
a devotion so great that he is willing even to let us 
suffer that each may know from first-hand experi- 



i7 

ence what life is, how best to live it and what it 
means. Despite our ignorance and suffering, de- 
spite the confusion which attends this successive 
interplay of comfort and discomfort, of doubt, 
happiness, and defeat, one fact stands out clearly 
from the moment we begin seriously to think. 
We desire to have some experiences triumph over 
others. We long for freedom from pain, for hap- 
piness and peace. Just this baffling ignorance 
prompts an insatiable desire to know ; and almost 
before we are aware of it we have made of life a 
problem which we intend to solve, though it take 
eternity. 

Each of you would, I suspect, make the same 
confession if questioned in regard to your special 
problem. Here you are, living and thinking 
amidst this great strife of forces which carry you 
ceaselessly forward. You have a measure of hap- 
piness, yet you are dissatisfied. Sometimes you 
halt by the way. Then you find a definite clew, 
and follow it for a long time. Again and again 
life seems burdensome. You would gladly drop 
the cares of maturity, and return to the uncon- 
sciousness of childhood. But a superior power 
bears you resistlessly on. If you do not move on 
good-naturedly, you are made to feel the sharp spur 
of necessity. With each, also, this power takes 
an individual turn ; and herein consists your prob- 
lem. There is in each a special longing, a dissatis- 



fied or undeveloped side. Around this undevel- 
oped part all your trials and pains centre. The 
question is : How can your weakness become your 
strength ? What is the superior power accom- 
plishing through this unfinished portion of your 
life ? Why are you still dissatisfied ? Why do 
you still complain, lose your temper, and add to 
the misery of others ? Why do you possess two 
selves, or natures, in conflict ? 

For example, take the man of exceedingly sensi- 
tive temperament. He is finely organized, his 
aspirations are spiritual, he is kind, thoughtful, 
affectionate, morally upright, and strong ; but he 
is also extremely susceptible to outside influences, 
and these influences do not always take the high- 
est form. For, besides his spiritual nature, he 
possesses a strongly marked animal nature. Here 
is the mystery. Why is it that side by side with 
the will to do right, the strong desire to become 
spiritual, there is a nature which his will apparently 
cannot conquer ? Why is he easily influenced on 
the lower plane, while for every higher attainment 
he must pay a heavy price ? 

Is this not a fair statement of life's problem, — 
the conflict of two selves, the question what to do 
with the weak or undeveloped side, the animal, and 
how to adjust ourselves to the forces of evolution, 
that we may be receptive only to the highest ? 
For, if you search deeply enough, can you not 



19 

trace disease, sin, crime, evil, back of their effects 
to this undeveloped nature, where their cause is 
located ? Or let us be frank for once, and con- 
fess that selfishness is really the root of it all. 
The vital problem, then, is, How shall selfishness 
be overcome ? For every problem at last centres 
about this. This difficulty lies back of all ques- 
tions of moral, social, and political reform, the 
problems of wealth and poverty, of war, sin, and 
crime. Yes, it is the real question at issue in 
disease. This is the great obstacle put between 
man and the realization of the Christ ideal. This 
it is which he must overcome, and, by paying this 
tremendous price, earn the right to be at peace, be 
happy, and know the meaning of life. And, since 
all problems reduce themselves to this, all time 
spent upon other solutions is to a certain extent 
wasted ; for, if the philosopher in his garret has 
failed to solve life's problem, if it be still a mystery 
to the invalid and the financier, here is the reason, 
— that self still stands in the way. 

My proposition, then, is that the universe is 
ultimately a harmony ; that a divinely beneficent 
and all-wise Power is its origin and life, and that 
each of us is a particular phase of this great Power, 
or Life, but that each is given this weak side, this 
great bulk of ignorance leading to misery and 
selfishness, that he may have fullest experience, 
that this divine ideal may have the opportunity to 



20 



unfold, that we may become strong through con- 
test and beautiful through victory. 

This is no new proposition, and the reader fears 
I am about to weary him with a restatement of 
some time-worn theory. But, old or new, people 
show by their conduct that they are not yet ready 
to try this solution ; for they are still trying to 
remedy effects, they still blame one another instead 
of looking to their own natures as the cause of all 
trouble, they continually attribute their misery to 
God. I maintain that the essentials of the true 
solution are just these trying personal experi- 
ences at which we rebel and from which we seek 
freedom. The man who is easily influenced is 
each day meeting just such difficulties as afford 
him the best food for philosophical thinking. The 
remedy is to think, to understand one's self, to 
overcome the selfishness of the world by first 
becoming unselfish. Moreover, it is evident that 
one's perplexing personal problem will continue 
until it be understood, the weak side strengthened, 
and self overcome. This is the solution of the 
mystery. This is why the animal survives so long, 
because, if it did not, we should not learn our lesson. 
Man will cease to sin only when he understands 
the creative pressure from within. It is hopeless 
pessimism to deem him perverse. He continues 
his selfish life only because he has not thought 
enough, because he has not yet grasped the beauty 



21 



of altruism. He will choose the Christ life when 
he fully appreciates the joy, the rich opportunity 
for service, which it offers. 

What, then, is the motive power behind these 
conditions, — the selfishness, misery, and happiness 
through which we evolve into wisdom and virtue ? 
Is it not the real ego, or soul, which goes forth 
from the great creative life, freighted with special 
powers and possibilities of thought and action ? 
If so, then each soul has not only its individual 
message, but the power to attract the conditions 
essential to full self-expression. It is sent into 
the dark world of ignorance and trial with a latent 
Christ locked far within. Thus equipped, it at- 
tracts the parentage and environment necessary to 
the fulfilment of the creative purpose. It may or 
may not have successive incarnations. On this 
point our knowledge of the soul's history is most 
obscure.* I am laying stress rather on the mo- 
tive power than on the process. 

All growth proceeds from a centre. Essential 
to growth is a favorable environment. Through- 
out the history of thought, authorities have been 
divided as to which was the real power, — the ex- 
ternal conditions or the life manifested through 
them.f Some say, Work upon effects, and the 

* I have discussed this question at length : " In Search of a Soul," Chap. V. 

t On this point see an able discussion on " Great Men and their Environ- 
ment," by Professor James: " The Will to Believe." Longmans, Green & Co., 
New York, 1897. 



22 



inner life will express itself. Others say, Assume 
the right attitude within, and the outer circum- 
stances will change. But both sides are essential. 
We may unfold from within and co-operate from 
without : it is not enough to have a large soul and 
a poorly developed body. Rounded development 
is essential to the full expression of the soul ; for, 
if man is to come into harmony with the universe, 
the union must be physical as well as mental, and 
a well-developed body makes this possible. Con- 
sequently, the way to become unselfish is not 
to sacrifice, but develop self. When I am most 
fully myself, I shall be of greatest service to soci- 
ety. There is no real conflict between self and 
society. The power of selfishness in the world is 
the power of individual service in course of evolu- 
tion, it is good in itself. 

The problem of life, then, is not to be taken as 
a burden to be pondered over with a weight of 
seriousness : it is to be taken as a blessing and 
privilege, as much as to say : Here I am existing 
in this beautiful universe of law and order. I am 
needed : otherwise I should not be here. There 
is but one power in the universe. Consequently, 
nothing can defeat me if I do my part. The fric- 
tion I feel is due to the effort of the soul to come 
forth to freedom. I am still conscious of friction 
because my will is not in harmony with the uni- 
versal will. But I shall conquer, I will trust, be 



23 

faithful and patient, because I see the law, because 
I know that, as inevitably as the apple falls when 
it is loosened from the tree, my soul will draw the 
conditions requisite for its growth. 

If, then, a higher wisdom adjusts all means to 
a supreme end, it follows that the present condi- 
tions, just these problems which seem so hard, have 
not only come to us in wisdom, but in response to 
our own attitude. If we rebel, if we blame others, 
and do not try to think or develop, then we re- 
main where we are without learning our lesson, 
still in ignorance and misery. 

What is the law which regulates the coming of 
these conditions ? It is obviously action and re- 
action. "As a man soweth, so shall he also reap." 
Here is the basis of all activity. If we return 
anger for anger, we must take the consequences. 
If we worry, we must expect to be miserable. But, 
if we love, others will love us. Is this not the es- 
sence of Jesus' teaching ? Is it not the substance 
of all common-sense moral and spiritual doctrine, 
the lesson of our entire experience, the substance 
of the teaching of the ages ? If so, experience is 
a series of opportunities which one may take or 
lose. We mount higher in the scale of life by our 
own acts only, by the occasions we take to do 
good, to strike the note of harmony, to love. All 
that is demanded of us that our individual prob- 
lems may be solved, is that we shall choose the 



24 

wisest way, — of two movings, select the one which 
makes for character, the disinterested guidance, 
the altruistic prompting, stop this mad rush of 
impulse and habit, and think, consider the conse- 
quences, and follow the most rational course. 

Let us now apply these principles to daily life. 
Suppose the case is that of a woman who is com- 
pelled to do work that is irksome. She aspires to 
better things. Shall she try to break off from it 
when it is most irksome ? No, say all who regard 
life from the point of view of character-building. 
That is a part of her problem. If she were to free 
herself from it when most irksome, she might have 
it all to go through again. At this hardest point 
her work will do the greatest good. The open 
door to higher work is contentment with the task 
at hand, while still keeping in mind the higher 
ideal. No work will be given us except that 
which is needed for our development. We have 
what we deserve, for the law of action and re- 
action ultimately means that justice reigns at the 
heart of things. If we hold the ideal in mind, we 
may know that the conditions favorable to its reali- 
zation will come the moment we are ready, — never 
before ; for we can omit no step in evolution. 

Again, suppose the problem is that of domestic 
inharmony. Here surely is a splendid opportunity, 
for the place in which to work out a problem so 
that it shall mean most for the soul and the under- 



25 

standing is the place where the problem arises. 
One cannot run away from one's problem. It will 
pursue one to Europe. It insists upon just the 
solution which you alone can give it. The 
trouble, so far as one is personally concerned, is 
in one's own nature. The opportunity is open to 
make things harmonious, to learn the lesson which 
precisely that trying situation offers. And usually 
half of the problem is solved when we cease to 
blame others, and begin to remedy our own atti- 
tude; for it is not environment which makes for 
character, nor what others do for us. It is the 
way we take circumstances. And "no change of 
circumstance can repair a defect of character." 
"The problem of life," says David Starr Jordan, 
"is not to make life easier, but to make men 
stronger. The essence of tyranny lies not in the 
strength of the oppressor, but in the weakness of 
the weak." If I am down-trodden, I must blame 
myself for submitting. " Only thyself, thyself 
canst harm." The sensitive man who suffers 
from the unkind remarks of others, or from con- 
taminating atmospheres, must learn that his nature 
is the cause. The one who rebels must see the 
wisdom of the circumstance at which he rebels. 
If circumstances do not change at once, there is 
sufficient reason. The important point is to take 
ourselves where we are, try to understand the prin- 
ciples involved, come to judgment, and discover how 



26 



we have built character by the way we have taken 
circumstances. 

A close analysis of such a situation shows that 
deep within the mental world lies the primary cause 
of all the outer life brings us. If we penetrate 
deeply, we may observe the mind in the act of 
changing from one attitude to another. Our men- 
tal attitudes may in fact be divided into two great 
classes, — those which tend to draw in and those 
that are outgoing and expansive ; in other words, 
the selfish and the unselfish. With the attitude of 
giving is manifest the outgoing spirit. Anger and 
fear contract, love and trust expand ; happiness 
sends an expansive, awakening thrill through the 
body, depression tends to draw one into self, into 
trouble and sensation ; morbid conscientiousness 
and introspection have the same result. We may 
safely say of all long-faced and gloomy religion 
that it is wrong. The beauty of life is not seen 
by looking into a pit. The eyes must be turned 
outward and upward. We are not in an attitude 
to see clearly while we look only into self. We 
cramp or enlarge the life according to the attitude 
of mind and body, for the body follows where the 
mind leads.* 

Here is a physical reason for happiness, a 
method of self-help and cure. Observe closely 

* For suggestive thoughts in this portion of the discussion I am indebted to 
A. G. Dresser. 



27 

enough to see how everything responds to the out- 
going spirit, or, if it be a mean act, how the soul 
itself is shut in by the very smallness of your con- 
duct. When you are depressed, you may know 
that you are not loving enough, that you are think- 
ing too much of self. Grief is the selfish thought 
of personal loss. The selfish person loves only for 
what he may acquire for personal development. 
Then he drops his friend, and passes on to the 
next : whereas the unselfish one is ever loyal, well 
knowing that, when the limitations are discovered 
in another, the time has come to be of greatest ser- 
vice. To the unselfish one development comes in- 
cidentally. He does good unawares : the selfish 
man wishes his deeds published abroad. He is 
parasitic, ungrateful ; while the unselfish one has 
an immediate prompting to share with others. 

Again, if I am disappointed in people, I should 
know that I am thinking too much of self, of what 
others can do for me instead of what I can do for 
them. The habit of judging others by self is an- 
other indication, also egotism, superiority, aristoc- 
racy, and the method of studying life wherein the 
tenderest emotions are subjected to cold intellect- 
ual analysis. Is there not a profoundly selfish ele- 
ment in the human intellect, that grasping, arbi- 
trary, proud, frigid master, which crowds the spirit, 
and is willing to sacrifice anything and everybody 
to science? Its rigidly accurate descriptions are 



28 



not life. Life is warm, pulsating, outgoing ; and 
one must live, sympathize, love, in order to know it. 
" The kingdom of heaven cometh not with observa- 
tion." The Highest refuses to be trapped and im- 
prisoned. It speaks when the heart speaks, and 
you cannot force it into the formula and crucible. 
Another deviation into selfishness is the with- 
drawing into our shell when circumstances are un- 
favorable and people displease us. But, when 
others are unkind, when they misjudge and send 
out hatred, then we should send forth more love. 
It is our fault if we become subjectively impris- 
oned, if we have few friends. The flesh is self- 
ish, and he who would rise to the altruistic plane 
must first learn self-control, — master impulse and 
let the spirit govern. All the passions are reducible 
to selfishness in different forms, — envy, spite, re- 
venge, impatience, jealousy, hatred, sensuality; 
and so, to strike at the root of these, you must 
conquer self. One would not worry unless one 
thought too much of self. No one need fear who 
loves enough. Exclusiveness is selfishness, and 
"the exclusive excludes himself." Selfishness not 
only lays the blame elsewhere, but finds excuses 
for itself. It masquerades as altruism ; it is the 
false Christ ; it schemes ; is self-deceptive, pre- 
tending ; puts its best foot forward, uses pet names 
to conceal its real motive ; it is two-faced, over- 
bearing, expecting all things to give way before it, 



2 9 

demanding that people shall move to suit its con- 
venience ; it will not discommode itself, but will 
allow another to become its slave ; it permits itself 
to be flattered, idolized, and accepts unlimited fa- 
vors without a word of gratitude ; it uses influence, 
pressure, even hypnotism ; it lives in and encour- 
ages sensation, demanding that others shall coddle 
it, even lead a life of self-sacrifice, in order to 
maintain the selfish life. Thus invalidism, aided 
by medical skill, becomes a fine art. Selfishness 
masquerades as love when alleged love desires 
possession of another. Is not marriage in many 
forms simply licensed selfishness ? 

It comes in the guise of friendship, claiming to 
be impersonal. Rather than see itself fail, it will 
stand between people, create discord, and adopt 
even degrading means to its end. Its poisoned 
darts of retaliation and persecution are hurled into 
the bosom of a peaceful household, and it would 
rather die than see a rival occupy the place it 
sought to fill. In a word, it is the devil himself, the 
tempter, the evil in the world. It presents a solid 
front to the spirit, inert, indifferent, irresponsive, a 
wall to be broken and overcome, if one would pass 
into the realms of health, happiness, and peace. 
Yet it is so subtle and sly that it steals into the 
mind a thousand times after one thinks the larger 
part is conquered. 

O grinding taskmaster, tyrant, aristocrat, thief, 



30 

thou art the fiend whom the world has pursued, 
until, in the bitterness of thy spirit, thou hast ever 
resorted to subtler schemes, determined at last to 
wreak vengeance on the god of love ! The world 
hunts thee as never before. In vain are thy plots 
laid, in vain that, driven from many of thy strong- 
holds in the outer world, thou hast made even the 
mysterious power of the psychic realm thy instru- 
ment of cunning. We press hard upon thee ; and, 
though thou dost assume the guise of the Christ, 
the mask will be torn from thee, and love, not 
hate, shall prevail. 

But why do we dignify Satan with the title of 
thee ? Why is he the most fascinating character 
in life's great play ? Is it not because he is an 
angel in process of becoming, because selfishness 
is misdirected God-power turned toward self and 
used for self ? No one cares for mere goodness. 
It is the energy, the enterprise of the world which 
awakens interest and calls forth admiration. The 
life and hope of the world lie within just this 
passion, this activity and deviltry which we call 
evil while it is turned toward self. It is that only 
which keeps us awake and active. Otherwise we 
should fall into the eternal stupidity and doziness 
of mere goodness which has nothing to conquer, 
and is not sufficiently animated to care whether it 
lives or dies. What other reason can you assign 
for the existence of passion in a world bearing so 



3i 

many evidences of perfect wisdom ? What other 
solution to the problem of life, which is really the 
problem of evil ? 

If you look through history, do you not find 
that this strongest side is the active factor from 
the dawn of life ? It appears first as the struggle 
for self-protection, the survival of the fittest, push- 
ing the weaker side. Might was right for ages. 
But long ago the wonderful process of transmuta- 
tion began. The presence of human beings in 
groups gave opportunity for the birth of altruism, 
already latent in animal life. The power once ex- 
pressed as selfishness began to be turned outward 
instead of inward, and this change in the directing 
of our forces is the secret of the marvellous proc- 
ess of transmutation. There are not in reality 
two selves, or powers, in conflict, but one power 
turned now inward to self, now outward to hu- 
manity. 

The friction is due to the fact that the outward 
turning is in harmony with the creative moving, 
the inward against it. Man must discover the 
almost numberless subtleties of the indrawing 
emotions and thoughts, then, as a consequence of 
each discovery, face squarely the other way. This 
changing process has been going on for ages. It 
is everywhere going on among nations and indi- 
viduals to-day. What we wish is to see the power 
behind selfishness and all its derivatives turned 



32 

toward the light, so that the bold spirit of enter- 
prise, which has cleared the forests and built up 
modern civilization, shall be focussed on the moral 
and spiritual planes. Hitherto it has been physi- 
cal. To-day it is triumphantly intellectual, scien- 
tific. The centre of activity is thus shifted from 
lower to higher planes. Eighteen hundred years 
ago it was earnestly focussed at the spiritual centre. 
Each time it is lifted it arouses into opposition the 
conservative power of habit. The Christ spirit has 
tried for eighteen hundred years to overcome the 
habits of the world. 

The same struggle is apparent in each of us to- 
day, — the shifting of the creative centre toward the 
highest plane, and the obstinate resistance of the 
old. Each must solve the problem of transmuta- 
tion in his own life, because man is a free moral 
agent. I must choose before circumstances re- 
spond, and, in order to choose wisely, I must 
understand myself ; for selfishness is due, not to 
perversity, but to ignorance. The cure for self- 
ishness is wisdom. For untold generations people 
have tried the method of fighting, suppression, 
force, aggressiveness. But, the greater the force 
applied, the more hostility is aroused. He who 
schemes and uses pressure does not know the law. 

If you take what you believe to be yours, and 
make people stand aside, you may indeed have 
what you seek. Man is free to be selfish, if he 



33 

will. If God forced us to be good, there would be 
no moral world, and consequently no individual exist- 
ence. But he tells us with a patience which knows 
no fatigue that there is a higher way, the method 
of the outgoing life, the pathway of the spirit of 
love, peace, and happiness. You may search in 
vain for happiness and peace along the byways of 
egoism. Here alone is joy to be found, here alone 
are health and harmony ; and he who would enter 
must no longer impose his way and his plan upon 
the universe, but seek out the way the universe is 
going. Thus shall the prayer of the Christ be 
answered in minutest detail, — " Not my will, but 
thine be done " ; for it is a universal law. 

The supreme test of one's faith, therefore, is its 
application to daily life. It is the little thoughts 
and emotions that make or unmake us, according 
as they are outgoing or ingoing. Let us put this 
fact strongly enough to remember it : that, as 
selfishness is hatred, so unselfishness is love. The 
one tends toward insanity, the other toward 
sanity. The mind is like a sensitive plant which 
opens and closes in response to the least change 
of feeling or thought. In the egoistic attitude, one 
is buried in the flower, in sensation, in one direc- 
tion of thought. In the altruistic, one looks out- 
ward and upward to the sunshine. 

Look, then, at the tormenting passion within 
you, and rejoice. Never again deem it evil or low. 



34 

It is the highest in disguise, — the prompting of God 
to your soul to become creative by turning it to 
the centre where you are best fitted to be out- 
going. Within your body as well as in your mind 
and heart, I repeat, the great process of transmu- 
tation is going on. Always, when a new experi- 
ence comes, regard it as the activity of the crea- 
tive spirit. It calls for readjustment and assimila- 
tion, just as a new idea is at first combated, 
thought over, accepted, and finally given forth as 
one's own. The incoming of power from the 
highest touches the lowest, and sets it in motion. 
If we do not understand it, we look down into it, 
think we have lost ground, and become discour- 
aged. If we know what it means, we are thank- 
ful and rejoice. Thus one learns to be grateful for 
every evolutionary opportunity, well knowing that 
without regeneration and a severe test of faith the 
greatest spiritual gifts can never be ours. 

Another important point is due recognition of 
individual rights. The father and mother think 
they know so much better what the son should be- 
come, that they find it almost impossible to let him 
have his experiences. They forget that he, too, is 
an individual soul with a work in the world, and 
that just because of that work he necessarily has 
ideas and methods differing from their own. It is 
futile to think we can spare another the test ex- 
periences of life. 



35 



It is the order of nature that each soul should 
start out from the paternal home to seek the ex- 
periences essential to its development. The soul 
can be trusted to seek such condition as it needs. 
No parent can own a soul, any more than there 
can be ownership in true marriage. That parents 
have given a soul physical birth should be 
esteemed a privilege. They have not made the 
soul. Their part, however great, is secondary ; for 
the primary cause is the God-given individuality. 
He who understands this in himself, and recog- 
nizes it in others, has the key to the solution of 
life's problem. 

Let me see clearly that my inner self attracts 
its like, and no one else is to be blamed or praised, 
and then let me understand that every soul is so 
situated, and is to be treated with respect, and all 
will be well. The environment affords the condi- 
tion essential to the development of the soul, just 
as a university governed by the elective system 
places every opportunity before the student, with- 
out compelling him to study what every one else 
studies. The student under such a system is sup- 
posed to understand himself well enough to know 
what he wants. He is to take what belongs to 
him, and discover his own method of obtaining it. 

Every one, to be sure, is dependent on parents 
and friends for a time ; and much depends on the 
start in life. In the same way men and women 



36 

are long dependent on lectures and books, certain 
physical comforts, and the like. " But books are 
for the scholar's idle hours," says Emerson. They 
are essential only until we can do without them by 
thinking out life's problem for ourselves. So with 
physical surroundings. The day comes when one 
is no longer bound by them. It matters little 
where one lives, if only one be meeting life's prob- 
lem, and learning the eternal principles involved. 

The march of life, therefore, means for each 
soul, progress toward freedom of the powers of 
thought and the mutual helpfulness whereby souls 
free one another. The problem of life is the prob- 
lem of education enlarged to cover the entire scope 
of human existence. We graduate and pass to the 
next grade only as rapidly as we free the true self, 
and learn the beautiful lesson of service. Suffer- 
ing shall accompany us until we understand the 
law by which we create it. But, if the theory ad- 
vocated in this chapter is in any measure true, it is 
within our power to overcome suffering, to learn 
life's wisdom through harmony instead of through 
discord. Unless each soul should pass through 
life's varied discords and melodies, it would not 
know the perfect symphony. The lost chord is 
the unity wrought by love between soul and soul. 
The Christ life assimilates in new relations all that 
has gone before. 

The majority apparently lack faith to try this 



37 

solution of the problem of life. But the law is 
plain. We can harmonize where we love. We 
can love where we put self aside, for love is ever 
unselfish. We can love when we cease to criticise 
and blame, when we recognize individual rights and 
the needs of the soul. Love fulfils, unifies. Its 
opposite, or the state of mind which draws one 
into self, takes away from, depletes, brings discord. 
Closing in and opening out, hating and loving, this 
is the story of life until the last bit of selfishness is 
transformed. The problem is easy or difficult ac- 
cording to our view of it. Each time our analysis 
compels us to return to the inner attitude as the 
essence of it all. " As man thinketh in his heart, 
so is he," not as he thinks superficially. While 
we go on living and thinking, the conservative 
forces will run out if we pay no attention to them. 
The creative life is with the new. The old will 
struggle, but heed it not. Hold fast to the ideal, 
work and wait. 

The unfailing remedy is to understand. Know 
yourself, know your most individual ideas, and be 
true to them. Understand your friends and your 
environment, philosophize about life, think out the 
relationship of man with God. Fear, anxiety, pes- 
simism, disease, evil, and selfishness are the chil- 
dren of ignorance. Knowledge of self is power 
over self. Knowledge of people gives freedom 
from people, so far as they enslave. The only re- 



38 

pose which neither calamity nor enemy can destroy 
is the calm reserve power of the man who under- 
stands, he who sees the law and governs his life 
by it. For such knowledge as this is not under- 
standing of self alone, but perception of the Power 
which the law reveals. 

We are not alone in solving the problem of life. 
We have not only one another, but the Power that 
equipped us to think and live is with us each mo- 
ment. Our individual problems are but so many 
phases of the great problem of the universe. The 
problem of race evolution is to be worked out by 
the solution of the enigmas of each individual soul, 
and the social problem is the great question set 
before himself by the Thinker of the universe. 
That which each soul shall contribute to the in- 
finite consciousness is the only problematical ele- 
ment of life from this larger point of view The 
one Power moves through all, granting to each the 
inestimable joy of co-operation. Let life be im- 
bued with the realization of this truth of truths, 
and the problem will seem lighter forevermore. 
The Supreme Power will not help when we can aid 
ourselves. But it is ever present with us while we 
think, loving with us while we love. 

Selfishness is antagonism and hatred. Unself- 
ishness is co-operation and love. To look outward 
and upward is to receive unfailing help. To look 
inward and downward is to burden ourselves with 



39 

our own weight. He who runs may read the solu- 
tion of the riddle of life, written in plain characters 
on every circumstance. Each soul contains a se- 
cret clew to the heart of the Sphinx. Life is just 
the enticing play it is because it takes us so long 
to find the golden thread. But patience and trust, 
whate'er betide. To each shall be measured out 
just that portion of wisdom and virtue which his 
own deeds have merited. 



II. 

THE BASIS OF OPTIMISM.* 

Whose faith hath centre everywhere, 
Nor cares to fix itself to form. 

Tennyson. 

The most hopeful reformation that can take 
place in the human mind is the escape from bond- 
age to dogma or authority, and the discovery of 
the rich possibilities of a broad and unhampered 
philosophy of evolution. The philosophies of the 
past have been chiefly doctrines of absolutism or 
fatalism. The Church has been the receptacle of 
well-established creeds, conservative, retrospective, 
and formalistic. The world has been deemed 
either the work of a Creator who foreordained its 
ways, or the expression of some philosophic Abso- 
lute, in whom its harmony was forever pre-estab- 
lished. Man, too, has been looked upon as the 
victim of this same deadly pessimism, where life is 
simply the unfolding of that which is latent within, 
or the dreary working-out of ages of bygone Karma. 
The philosophies and religions of the Old World, 
especially, are of this authoritative, conservative 

* This chapter was suggested by Professor James' profound dogma-freeing 
book, " The Will to Believe." 



4i 

type. In recent years their exponents have 
sought more and more to bring the New World 
under their sway. Custom, convention, authority, 
dogma, whatever it may be called, is in fact the 
most dangerous enemy, which threatens not only 
the growing generation, but the life of a nation as 
well. It is easy to move with the tide of estab- 
lished society. It is deemed almost heretical, and 
demands great courage, to break from it. 

But, beginning with the Reformation of Martin 
Luther's time, the people of the West have gradu- 
ally won their freedom, one department of learn- 
ing after another has advanced beyond the con- 
fines of the Church ; and modern science stands 
to-day the proud monument of the glad escape of 
intellect from the thraldom of priest and dogma. 
In the New World, especially, the banner of free- 
dom has been raised ; and man has claimed not 
only the right to govern and worship as he pleases, 
but even think as he wills. It is essentially the 
land of liberty, the land of belief in individuality, of 
self-reliant enterprise and daring progress. Long 
ago it broke loose from the bonds of conserva- 
tism in material things, and became the home 
of modern mechanical invention. The time will 
come when it will have a distinctive art and litera- 
ture. Last of all, as the crowning intellectual 
achievement of life, it will have a philosophy which 
will include the doctrines of freedom, individuality 



42 

and optimism. As a stepping-stone to this wider 
and maturer national philosophy which is being 
developed by our progressive thinkers, I propose 
in this chapter to consider some of the practical 
doctrines by which each individual may work out 
and contribute his share to the general mental 
evolution of our time. 

First, the philosophy of evolution is a doctrine 
of unbounded hope and unlimited possibilities. It 
does not assume to know the ultimate nature of 
the God, or Power, of the universe. It states 
nothing definite in regard to the outcome of 
human development. The universe is accepted as 
found, — a live organism, the field of varied forces, 
the general tendency of which is toward progress. 
Nothing is decreed, nothing established, save that 
the sum of energy is held to be the same ; and law 
is deemed universal. Certain definite stages of 
growth are discovered, certain types are deemed 
relatively fixed. But, in general, the outlook of 
evolution is toward the limitless future. Chance 
is one of the gods of evolution as truly as is the 
survival of the fittest or the power of unalterable 
law. There is no factor in the problem of life, 
even selfishness, so serious as to cast a pessimistic 
light upon the future ; for the remedy lies in un- 
derstanding it, and there is abundant reason to 
believe this great wisdom may come to all. There 
is, in fact, no limit placed upon speculative hope. 



43 

The bright prospect is open before us of a world 
whose future life may become largely what we col- 
lectively make it. Human nature, as we know it 
to-day, may be not only selfish, but cruel. Life 
may seem scarcely worth living, but the splendid 
opportunity is ours to make it worth living. 
" Believe that life is worth living, and your belief 
will help create the fact," says Professor James. 
Human society may at present be immoral and 
unethical. Yet ours is the privilege to help make 
it ethical. There is absolutely no ground for 
pessimism from this point of view. 

The most material evolutionist must include 
these glorious possibilities in his philosophy. He 
who believes also in the existence of a higher or 
spiritual nature has a still wider basis of hope. 
Moreover, the philosophy of evolution is a wonder- 
ful appeal to life. It adds a zest to living, is a 
source of happiness such as could never be found 
in the time-worn philosophies which it is rapidly 
displacing. This philosophy says to man : " Never 
mind yesterday. To-day may be made better by the 
way you live it. However many times you have 
failed, you know of no decree whereby you are 
doomed to eternal failure. Salvation is for all who 
earn it." 

There is no ground for believing in an unjust 
God, who saves only his chosen people. The field 
of evolution is an arena on which each may prove 



44 

his worth, and, so far as Nature is concerned, be- 
lieve, worship, and disport himself as he chooses ; 
for Nature is ever tolerant, broad, and fair. Over 
the door of her temple one great word is written, — 
Opportunity. Time is at her command, for she 
does not hesitate to take ten thousand years for a 
geological age. Space she owns without limit. 
The fact that nations have come and gone, and 
still man is not perfected, means nothing to her. 
It required millions of years to prepare the earth 
for his habitation. Why should it not take thou- 
sands upon thousands of years to make him fit to 
enjoy it ? Surely, there is no reason to despair at 
this early day. We have barely begun to exhaust 
the material products of our marvellous world. 
The age of intellect bids fair to be many times as 
long as that of mechanics ; far ahead lies the time 
when a higher epoch shall begin, and altruism reign 
where now egoism holds unquestioned sway. 

"Patience!" Nature seems to say. "Learn of 
me, and you shall have all you desire." Nay, more, 
life is not the mere realization of desires already 
latent. It doth not yet appear what we may wish 
to become. The more we know, the more fields 
of investigation open before us. Every desire 
leads to another ; and, fortunately for his welfare, 
man is never satisfied. " Every action admits of 
being outdone." What appears to be our work in 
life may sometime lead to a far nobler occupation. 



45 

Ideas which we expect to hold for a lifetime may 
seem puerile to us in due season, if we maintain an 
open mind. 

The fact that I tell you with all the emphasis of 
my soul that I believe a certain doctrine to-day is 
no reason for assuming that I may not sometime 
inculcate its reverse. If I am a true evolutionist, 
"I am an experimenter with no past at my back." 
I owe allegiance to no system, I bow to no conven- 
tion, I am not a slave to the hobgoblin consistency. 
I swear by no philosophical Absolute, I refuse to 
believe I am to become one with an " ocean of 
infinite bliss." I am ever on the alert for new 
ideas, ever ready to exchange a good method for a 
better, I am pliable, hopeful, happy, and thought- 
ful. In short, I am a citizen of the universe, and 
not only heir to all the ages, but in part the maker 
and owner of the destiny of men. Mine is the 
opportunity to rise where man has never before 
dreamed of ascending, to reverse the fate of na- 
tions and bring to naught the prophecies of the 
wise. Imagination was not given me in vain ; but 
I may give freest play to fancy, with the possibil- 
ity that even what I deem almost too good to be 
true will sometime be mine. Mine is the chance 
to awaken men to the same great wealth of pos- 
sibilities, and thus to play my humble part in has- 
tening the disappearance of suffering, disease, and 
degradation. 



4 6 

Truly, the hope of the world lies in this broad 
philosophy of evolution, with its possibilities of al- 
truism and the Christ. Here is the doctrine, 
which, if it be not yet as lofty and spiritual as 
we would have it, at least possesses the merit of 
being unhampered. Here is the real fountain of 
youth ; namely, the opportunity of ever renewing 
life by the thought of fresh possibility. Here, too, 
is the method whereby ambition is to be realized. 

For the inexorableness of natural law, the ap- 
parently stern fate which couples cause and effect, 
is at the same time the solid basis of the great 
hope which the philosophy of evolution inspires. 
While we are still ignorant and thoughtless, it 
seems harsh and cruel that one must reap as one 
has sown. But, when truly apprehended, law is 
found to be the basis of all our trust in the world. 
It gives us strong reason to believe in the integ- 
rity of Nature. It shows us what to depend on ; 
namely, that under similar conditions the same 
effects follow similar causes. Law, therefore, in- 
stead of being a hard taskmaster, becomes our 
willing servant. It brings us close to the heart of 
the universe ; for law is the regular mode of ac- 
tivity of the one Power, or Life. It puts the mind 
in sympathetic relations with the creative force it- 
self, since creation, according to the philosophy of 
evolution, is a process continuously going on around 
and within us. Moreover, it is a process which 



47 

uses every slightest occurrence, whether intentional 
or accidental. 

In fact, it makes little difference to Nature 
whether an event be accidental or within the es- 
tablished order. So rigid is she in the insistence 
that effect shall be like cause that you must al- 
ways describe her phenomena thus : Certain re- 
sults follow from certain causes, unless something 
intervenes, in which case you should expect some- 
thing different. When, therefore, you apply this 
law, try to realize its full significance in daily life. 
Every thought, every emotion, registers its effect as 
truly as the greatest cataclysm in the external 
world. For are we not, each and every one, parts 
of the same great system ? Is not activity of 
thought governed by the same law that regulates 
the whispering of the wind in the tree-tops or the 
beating of angry waves upon a desolate shore ? 

If this is so, our destiny is not fixed, but is in 
our own hands to shape, thought by thought and 
deed by deed. " Permanence is but a word of 
degrees." 

" For all experience is an arch wherethrough 
Gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades 
Forever and forever when I move." 

Why should one regard inheritance, environ- 
ment, or even temperament as fixed factors in 
evolution ? Is there any decree whereby we are 



4 8 

doomed to suffer from disease and poverty all our 
lives ? Is the span of life unalterably limited to 
threescore years and ten ? Must man always grow 
old, lose his faculties, and die ? Perhaps even 
death may be overcome, despite the fact that it 
has ever been the unconquered enemy of human- 
ity's youth. It may be that the expectation of 
these ills and the servile sway of convention have 
had much to do with their continuance. 

If we are ultimately to triumph, we must first 
dream, then hope, expect, believe, and finally affirm 
that these ideals of ours shall be realized. It is 
important also to note that we are not to triumph 
because we are fated to succeed. No one knows 
this to be decreed beyond all question. We are 
rather to triumph because we will to triumph, per- 
haps even to be immortal because we choose im- 
mortality, and, having chosen it, endeavor to make 
ourselves ethically worthy of it. Has any one been 
able to set bounds to human choice ? Have the 
limits of freedom ever been discovered ? 

Freedom of will is a myth, say the fatalists and 
pessimists of old. There is no rational basis for 
belief in freedom, say the logicians. Yet we go 
on serenely believing. We are at least free to 
believe, even if we fail to find it as a fact. Belief 
is often creative. We are not to be put down by 
argument. While there is the faintest loophole, 
we will look out upon the fair world of idealism. 



49 

Call us children, if you will, illogical and credulous. 
Your scepticism has failed to touch our belief, 
while enthusiasm is all the more lively because of 
this joyous triumph. 

" I am named and known by that moment's feat." 

The human spirit is the great unquenchable 
spring of the ever new life of the universe. Deep 
in its heart it cherishes the belief that in due 
course it will be the ruler of all living things. 
Deep in its heart it says : " These are but the days 
of my youth, the age of apparent slavery and de- 
feat. But I am quietly observing and learning. 
Some day the universe may discover what I am 
made of. Then let all the gods beware. The fact 
that I haltingly sit here amid the folds of physical 
sensation is no reason for believing me impotent, 
though I choose to repose a thousand years." 

Before one can conquer, one must know well the 
enemy, and discover the lines of least resistance. 
That the spirit is sent to school in the theatre of 
storm and pain is no sign that it is to be cowed 
by the villain of the play. The higher and 
stronger the product of evolution, the longer must 
be its apprenticeship, its period of infancy. The 
fittest that is to survive must be made fit through 
contest. Power comes only through use : nothing 
is made perfect upon the first trial. Sometimes, 
when we see a perfected invention, we wonder that 



5o 

it was not made so at once, the finished machine 
seems so much simpler than the cumbersome one 
it superseded. But it is ever so. Evolution 
through trial, failure, and mistake, to betterment 
and victory, is the law of the universe ; nor can 
the intermediate steps be omitted. Try to leap 
over them, and you must return and proceed, step 
by step, in orderly succession. 

Besides teaching the lessons of hope and pa- 
tience, of the reign of law and the utility of chance, 
Nature, as interpreted by evolution, also emphasizes 
this principle of orderly succession. If we are ever 
to bring human beings into the world without pain 
and misery, so that health and sanity shall be the 
rule of life, we can attain this end only by pass- 
ing through, understanding, and mastering all the 
stages of the suffering from which we would be 
free. Peace can come only as the reward of 
victory ; beauty, only from the reconstruction of 
chaos ; and poise, as the triumph over immoderate 
extremes. The longing for peace, beauty, and 
poise may be considered as an earnest that these 
fruits of toil are to be ours. We may therefore 
take courage from the fact that we have such de- 
sires. Yet these possessions are ever fruits, not 
gifts. No gifts are bestowed upon us through 
partiality or at random, but always that which 
comes to us comes because our own activity 
rendered us worthy of it. 



5i 

Here, once more, we discover ground for hope, 
— yea, for confidence ; for we know, with ever- 
deepened assurance, that what we work for must 
come. Are not these aspiring thoughts diminu- 
tive stepping-stones toward the goal of our desire ? 
On the other hand, is it not true that every doubt, 
every fear, all anxiety, worriment, depression, coun- 
teracts these happier thoughts, since every state of 
mind registers its impression ? If so, we move 
toward the goal in proportion as the sum total of 
optimistic thoughts exceeds the sum total of the 
pessimistic. 

Thus we continue intermingling the hopeful 
and the depressing, the sane and the insane, the 
good and the bad. A gloomy thought may not be 
without compensation. At any rate, we are com- 
pelled to recognize that we are the resultant of all 
we have wrought, be it good or bad. The law may 
be learned as well from one kind of conduct as 
another. The law is this, — that we are ever mak- 
ing and remaking ourselves according to thought 
and deed. Each stirring of the thought impulse is 
a seed sown in the willing soil of our productive 
mind. Many a seed is choked because we give it 
no time to grow. But Nature has told us how to 
make every action effectual ; namely, let the seed 
have its period of rest and germination, and do not 
be impatient while it is in the quiescent and dark- 
some stage. 



52 

Half our misery, nearly all our fear and worri- 
ment, is caused by neglect of this great fact. The 
period of transition, of unsightly or painful gesta- 
tion, is ever a necessary stage of evolution. Nat- 
ure has told us this again and again. But we 
heed her not. We go on complaining, doubting, 
and apprehending. We try to understand evil and 
suffering while buried in their throes. We make 
repeated mistakes, and reap wisdom therefrom. 
Thereupon we forget ; and, the next time a trial 
comes, we act as though the law of compensation 
were naught. Yet ever, if we heed Nature's man- 
dates, we take the broad view, trying to under- 
stand events in the light of their outcome. 

Throughout the realms of nature all growth 
comes from small beginnings. First, the cell, or 
life sent out in a new direction, then the steady 
accumulation of substance and force. Everywhere 
in the mental world the principle is the same. 
Every great invention sprang from a single idea. 
Every great discovery was first a thought in some 
courageous mind. Trace the natural history of 
any of your moods, — fear, hope, love, — and you 
will find that it started with a single thought or 
emotion which grew upon, you because you gave 
credence or attention to it. If you wish to eradi- 
cate a mood, at once end its growth. If you seek 
to avoid a habit, do not let a state of mind con- 
tinue ; for you can hope to destroy a habit only 



53 

by slowly building up a new one, until the life be 
sapped from the old. 

Everything depends upon its beginnings. If a 
line of development starts rightly, it will end well. 
If it be wrong, you must continually reap the con- 
sequences or start anew. A business undertaking 
depends for its success upon the motive, the en- 
ergy put into it. Friendship and marriage depend 
upon the plane on which they begin. The philos- 
ophy which we are considering of course admits 
the encouraging possibility of reforming that which 
started wrongly. But the principle is the same. 
Every reform begins at home, or, in other words, 
with a change of mind, a new determination, a 
single idea. If you would save time and energy, 
seek the line of least resistance and trust the 
laws of growth. 

If I have many ideas, some of them in conflict 
perhaps, some sensual and some spiritual, I know 
that the strongest will survive. If I have a strong 
aspiration for the spiritual life, this desire acts as 
a continuous creative force to bring all things in 
correspondence. It is a right beginning, destined 
to attract its like. " Seek first the kingdom," and 
all else shall follow. Choose first your ideal, im- 
press it clearly and forcibly upon your mind, and 
know that, unless you desire something else more 
than that, what you desire shall come. You may 
wait many years for the fulfilment of certain am- 



54 

bitions and desires. But such is the beautiful law 
of their coming. Circumstances must be in keep- 
ing. We must be inwardly ready. We must con- 
fidently hold to the ideal, knowing that a way of 
attainment will be found. 

Therefore, to discover the basis of evolutionary 
optimism and live as optimists, we must rouse 
from the sleep of sensation and conservatism, and 
breathe the free air of hopeful speculation. We 
may, it is true, fall into error, and imagine wild 
fancies never to be realized. But we must make 
bold strokes, in order to break down the barriers of 
conventional thinking. Forms of worship and be- 
lief quickly become fixed. It is easier to be imi- 
tative and fall into habits than be original and 
progressive. We must sometimes take vigorous 
measures ; if need be, break from our surround- 
ings, depart for a while from our friends, and go 
where a new set of sensations shall drive out the 
old, and an influx of new ideas quicken the mind. 

" Nach ewigen, ehrnen, 
Grossen Gesetzen 
Miissen wir alle 
Unseres Daseins 
Kreise vollenden." 

If a man really love truth, if he be a disciple 
of progress, he will not permit himself to state his 
belief in the same terms year after year. As every 



55 

year brings new experiences, so should it offer 
fresh interpretation of life. The genuine truth- 
seeker is more eager to keep the mind open than 
to arrive at some established conclusion. He 
hopes never to have any permanently settled be- 
liefs, for he contemplates an eternity of intellect- 
ual progress. What a glorious prospect, — the 
everlasting pursuit of truth ! The determination 
to progress cannot be too strong, for it must meet 
and master the vast resistance of custom and 
dogma. As the body needs vigorous exercise to 
stir the sluggish life into quickened activity, so 
the mind needs the tonic of ever-renewed ideas. 
Every day is not too often to send out the thought 
afresh into the glorious future of evolutionary 
idealism. Every day is none too often to have 
some invigorating, recreative experience which 
shall tend to lift one out of the thraldom of physi- 
cal sensation. 

'It is easy to come under the spell of the flesh, 
to be absorbed in painful or pleasurable sensation. 
The enticements of society make this especially 
true of those who have leisure, while the monot- 
ony of his labor tends to make the workman me- 
chanical. Suffering exerts a power which compels 
attention. Although we know that pain is in- 
creased by dwelling upon it, we seem incapable of 
turning the mind elsewhere. 

Yet some do not even know of the possibility. 



56 

Man knows not when he is a slave. Tell him he 
is one, and he rebels. Yet for those who have 
even the dimmest insight there is the great pos- 
sibility of awakening ourselves from this lethargy 
of sensation, through the realization that the man 
is a greater power than the feelings and thoughts 
which enslave him. Let a man come to conscious- 
ness, and there is boundless hope. Even then he 
must exercise continual diligence. Ever alert, 
ever active, must be the progressive man. With 
him the hope of the coming ages resides. With 
him the youth of the world is born anew. The 
old shall rebel, but it will not be for long. Out of 
the chaos of the old the new shall arise. Every 
time we have a fresh experience, new vitality is im- 
parted to our past life. Each time one has a new 
insight, it lights up all we have thought before, as 
if it were a fresh revelation. 

" Every ultimate fact is only the first of a new 
series," says Emerson,* voicing this progressive 
optimism. " Every general law [is] only a par- 
ticular fact of some more general law presently to 
disclose itself. There is no outside, no enclosing 
wall, no circumference to us. The man finishes 
his story, — how good ! how final ! how it puts a 
new face on all things ! He fills the sky. Lo ! 
on the other side rises a man, and draws a circle 
around the circle we had just pronounced the out- 

* Circles. 



57 

line of the sphere. Then already is our first 
speaker not man, but only first speaker. His only 
redress is forthwith to draw a circle outside of his 
antagonist. . . . Men walk as prophecies of the 
next age." 

Thus on and on is ever the word of evolution. 
Do not tarry until you can see naught but fixed 
fact. Hard facts are wholesome in their place. 
But let one never be exclusively realist or critic. 
Look merely at the actual, and you will become 
discouraged, and see nothing else. You must give 
a fair share of thought to the ought-to-be, the may- 
be, the shall-be. The rounded-out vision simulta- 
neously beholds the ideal and real, and sees the 
one actually becoming the other. Not that the 
new is necessarily better than the old, but that it 
is different. Is this not the great wonder of won- 
ders, the endless reappearance of the old in new 
form, the coming of spring, the rebirth of enthu- 
siasm, the statement of ancient doctrine in mod- 
ern form ? There is in reality little sameness in 
nature. Always there is slight modification. Nat- 
ure repeats her performances as if she had never 
given a like display. 

A famous actor who had acted the same play 
for more than a score of years was once asked the 
secret of his success. He replied that it was his 
endeavor always to give the play as if it were his 
first appearance, to listen to each speech as if he 



58 

were hearing it for the first time, and to speak his 
lines on Saturday with as much enthusiasm as on 
Monday. Is not this the secret of all successful 
living ? In all occupations there is much routine, 
if not drudgery. Yet the spirit with which work 
is done may be perennial. It is a fresh creation, 
if it be truly done. It is performed with joy that 
one can play one's part in the great organism of 
the universe. 

Always, too, one has the opportunity to form a 
fresh estimate of life, count one's blessings, re- 
build hopes, and start as into a young world. The 
true gentleman is as glad to see his friends at one 
time as another. The genuine teacher considers 
it a privilege to inculcate the same doctrine to 
many people. True love is at least as strong 
years after marriage as in its awakening. That 
which is dearest to the human heart never ages. 
It finds something to say or do which it never 
said or did before. 

There is an invigorating and youth-bringing 
spirit in this view of the world, which looks out 
upon the fair landscape of nature with as much 
joy morning after morning as in days of long ago. 
Does not all nature bespeak this freshness ? Do 
you detect signs of age in the scenery of a sunset 
or the green fields of summer ? The landscape 
is made new every time it rains. If rock and tree 
appear old, it is only because they are hastening 



59 

to furnish new material for the soil. Nature has 
learned the secret of renewing her entire organism 
through short periods of rest and relaxation. Why 
not we ? May it be that all this aging in mind 
and body is a mistake ? Why are we serious and 
old before our time ? Is it not because of our 
habitual gaze into the past and into sensation? 
Awake ! arise ! hold up thy head, O man ! The 
world is not coming to an end to-day. Over-se- 
riousness never helped a man to solve a problem. 
If we are creatures of routine, we surely cannot 
blame the universe. 

Another reason for giving the universe the bene- 
fit of all doubts, and placing our hope with the 
future of evolution, is found in the working of 
events to a common end. We grow anxious and 
troubled lest we may not have what we deserve. 
But, even while we are questioning, through some 
unexpected channel the object of our desires 
moves toward us. A wiser power has steered the 
bark of life ; and at the right time, at a time whose 
scope our broadest foresight could not compass, all 
has turned out well. Doubt it as we may, there 
is forced upon us the conviction that a Power 
owns all events, yet is dependent on the choice 
which makes us the "architects of fate." Trust, 
deep and lasting, is inevitably inspired by such a 
discovery. This optimistic trust is in turn the door 
to greater blessings. 



6o 



Even the pains of mental and physical growth 
prove richly suggestive of optimism, when viewed 
in the light of their outcome. We grow tired of 
moral opportunities, wishing we might rest a few 
years from character-building and the like. Yet 
in our sincerest moments we are glad, indeed, that 
life is constituted as it is, — that we have just these 
troubles to overcome, this animal nature to trans- 
mute, and these unruly minds to control. For we 
know that without such conditions we could not 
grow strong, without a universe which should tax 
to the utmost our ingenuity and endurance, we 
would not have the longed-for power. 

Apparently, then, the universe is constituted for 
the realization of even greater ideals than we had 
supposed. We can become not only all that we 
have aspired to be, but more and more. We have 
not aimed high enough. The conditions are here, 
and Nature has told us how to take advantage of 
them. Dream, aspire, reach out as you will, there 
is always the possibility that we have but begun 
to take what has awaited us for ages. We may 
sometime not only control nature's forces, but 
even regulate them anew. The mere suggestion 
of the possibility may be a step toward its realiza- 
tion. Desire itself must have an evolution. Every- 
thing has a beginning in something that began be- 
fore. Immortality itself could be possible only 
through continual change. Yet that which we 



6i 



value most may become a continuous possession 
through constant change or renewing. 

It may seem absurd to a physical scientist to 
talk about the visions and experiences of the soul. 
Such things are not to be found in the world of 
fact, he says. Very well, we will create them. If 
he will not let us believe in a soul that has lived 
forever, we will believe in one whose immortality 
shall begin now y whose supremacy shall sometime 
be recognized even in the physical world ; for we 
refuse to cease believing. 

The basis of optimism is man's own power of 
achievement, the hope, energy, enthusiasm, spirit, 
ever-renewed vigor, which he puts into daily life, his 
educational thought and work. It is no longer the 
belief in some supreme power who decrees that all 
shall go right, nor in some established world-order 
by which evolution is bound to have a moral out- 
come. The world, from the evolutionist's point of 
view, may thus develop, if men combine to bring it 
about. It is still only a possibility. There is every 
reason to be awake to the danger of failure. We 
are not simply to sit upon the bark of life, and 
watch it float. We have no definite knowledge 
that it will float forever. We have only the assur- 
ance that as we think, as we work, so shall be the 
result, — the most practical law the universe has 
taught us. When we regard the facts in all 
seriousness, could we ask for more ? 



62 



Remember, however, the conditions that bring 
the fulfilment of this tremendous promise. We 
must break away from the moorings of dogma and 
habit, we must become mentally and spiritually 
free, realizing, in the fullest sense, the glorious 
ideal of individual liberty. We must be willing to 
change our opinions, in the light of greater evi- 
dence, give play to intuition and creative imagina- 
tion; hope, despite all scepticism, so long as we 
remain dissatisfied ; overcome our ills by under- 
standing them, triumph by the superabundance of 
healthy, happy, hopeful, wise, good ideas and deeds ; 
trust that the calm, strong ideal will win realization 
through the contests and transformations of natural 
evolution ; and ever approach our daily occupa- 
tions with as much vigor of thought and action as 
though we had never failed. 

The most productive possibility is the altruistic 
ideal, the glorious hope put before the world by the 
life of the Christ. Can we affirm that life is not 
worth living until we have tested that ideal ? Yet, 
again, hope lies not in the fact that we are to be 
saved because some one died for us, but because 
there is salvation from sin if each man, personally, 
accepts the opportunities of the unselfish life. 
Freedom is for those alone who pay its price. We 
have no assurance that the heathen are to be lost 
unless they accept Christ, as Christians believe. 
We know nothing about an infallible Scripture. 



63 

We know only the hope of evolution and the 
power of the human will. Let us place no restric- 
tions upon our religious faith. Boundless are the 
possibilities of life, even as we know it. But 
the glories of life, when love shall triumph, are 
scarcely dreamed of. Who shall say that all other 
stages of existence are not introductions to this 
fulness of life ? Who shall say that these ideals 
may not be realized, despite the prevailing selfish- 
ness of human nature? 

I repeat again, and once again, the universe is 
young ; man is an infant. Have patience for a 
million years, and believe forever in the power of 
hope. If uncounted millions fall by the wayside, 
ere the victory be won, let us hope that they may 
enjoy rich compensation. Hope is not genuine 
unless it includes the race. It must be as broad 
as thought can suggest. Indeed, the universe will 
not be a success unless all who wish may reap its 
richest reward. 

The same hope must help me in the details of 
daily living, if my optimism is practical. I am to 
rise after every failure with indomitable faith. I 
should deem nothing I have accomplished of per- 
manent consequence. I have not sounded my pos- 
sibilities. If I permit the world's praise to affect 
me, my progress will be retarded. Every success 
should teach me greater success. I should con- 
sider criticism only to learn improvement, and be 



6 4 

neither flattered nor discouraged. I decide once 
for all never to be discouraged, come what may. 
Yes, I will persist, though all possible obstacles be 
placed in my way. Hope shall be my watchword, 
though the house over my head be burning, though 
I have not a dollar in the world. 

But, says the sceptic, your optimism is tempera- 
mental. I frankly admit it. It is my nature to 
hope that evil itself is powerless to defeat the 
swelling tide of evolutionary optimism. I believe 
most heartily in the ultimate triumph of the beauti- 
ful, the true, the good. I believe the time will 
come when men shall care as much for ideas as 
they now care for things. Have I not a right to 
be a man of firm faith ? Should I not cling to my 
hope until I discover reason for doubt ? 

Moreover, hope, not despair, lifts the world, and 
has a sublime ethical value. It is the voice of 
health. It is the tonic of the soul. One cannot 
too highly estimate the power of high ideals, the 
practical worth of beauty. One cannot too often 
lift the mind to the plane of loftiest possibility. 
This is the supreme wisdom of righteous living : it 
is the opportunity par excellence of life. It is a 
duty I owe my fellow-men to put myself in a healthy 
condition, and then inculcate practical philosophy. 
Philosophy aims to understand the normal nature 
of the world. The abnormal is of value only so 
far as it throws light on the normal. The normal 



65 

holds the universe sane and sound. The optimistic 
mood enables the mind to see through the distress 
of evolution to its joyous outcome. However far 
we may be from the assurance that the good is to 
triumph, we find a tendency which points that way. 
We find it in our lives. We discover it in society. 
We recognize it in history. Each time we are 
constrained to give the universe the benefit of the 
doubt, and adopt hope as the basis of our daily liv- 
ing. Hope remains when scepticism has uttered 
its last word. The will is untouched. The uni- 
verse persistently smiles. And, out of this per- 
sistent hope and this perennial smiling, who shall 
say what wonders may come ? who shall limit the 
beauty and possibility of the universe and of the 
human soul ? 



III. 

CHARACTER-BUILDING.* 

" But waves swept on, I learned to ride the waves, 
I served my masters till I made them slaves." 

When one awakes to thoughtful self-conscious- 
ness in this great world of physical law, order, and 
necessity, where events follow according to a se- 
quence which we did not arrange, and where we 
seem to be involuntary observers of pains and 
pleasures which are forced upon us, the inevi- 
table question is : What may I do ? Am I a help- 
less spectator cast about by nature's forces, a mere 
centre of reflex action at the mercy of rigid fate 
and changeless law ? It seems so at first. One is 
almost appalled by human helplessness. Nature 
has been here for ages, and perfected her organ- 
ism. We are born into an environment where 
physical habits are already fixed. We would have 
preferred better physiques and better parentage, 
but we must take ourselves at this late day as fate 
has chosen. Social customs, educational methods, 
and intellectual pursuits are established so that 
there is little opportunity for innovation. Human 

* Read before the Metaphysical Club of Haverhill, January, 1898. 



6 7 

nature itself has a character determined by a 
higher power, and is the same the world over. 
Even our desires and tastes seem to be not quite 
ours, but rather tendencies which we find ready- 
made and almost thoughtlessly live by. 

An appeal to psychology gives but little more 
satisfaction. Our feelings or perceptions are dis- 
tinctly ours, but we are compelled to feel and be 
conscious. I do not choose to perceive the world 
of nature, nor will to be self-conscious. All this 
I find as a gift of existence. The power of paying 
attention is voluntary, to be sure. I can give im- 
mediate direction to my mind, and turn from a 
painful thought to a pleasant one. Yet even at- 
tention is not always at command. Sometimes 
pain is so intense that one is forced to pay atten- 
tion to it, even though one knows that by so doing 
one's suffering is increased. When I speak, the 
process is largely mysterious and involuntary, 
whereby thought gives rise to the movement of 
vocal chords and lips. Nor am I quite certain 
that even the desire to speak is voluntary, for 
something suggested it. During the thinking 
process, do we not rather observe ideas as they 
come into the mind than compel them to come ? 
And they come from past involuntary perceptions 
stored in the memory, ideas we have heard or read, 
feelings we have enjoyed or suffered despite our 
wills. 



6S 



If I have an emotion or thought, I must wait 
until a word occurs to me before I can express it ; 
for words refuse to come simply at my beck and 
call. Language itself I find ready-made. I seem 
to be a sort of involuntary spectator of my own in- 
voluntary self, engaged in a drifting process of feel- 
ing and thought, in which one idea leads rapidly 
to another. Sometimes one can recall an idea. 
Again, one has no power over it ; and, if I try to 
create, to imagine, I may seek in vain for one fancy 
or air-castle not in some way suggested by this 
great stream of involuntary experience. For even 
if I think of a dreamy realm among the clouds, 
peopled by beings with fluid bodies, where time 
runs backward and space has five dimensions, I 
still draw my materials from knowledge of present 
life. 

If, in despair, I turn at last to the realm of 
inmost emotions, I learn that my pains and pleas- 
ures, my hates and loves, are called out by some 
external incident or some person, and not by this 
inmost self. Who am I that thus loves, observes, 
and seeks something voluntary in human life? 
Did I make myself in any respect ? and would my 
conduct really be voluntary after all, even if I 
could at this late day choose what to perceive and 
ignore, if I could imagine with no food for fancy 
to play upon ? 

What is your purpose in all this ? some one 



6 9 

asks. Are you trying to show that the world is a 
machine where every event is fated, where the 
effort to build character is an illusion, and where 
we are not ourselves at all as we now believe ? I 
reply that I am trying simply to state facts which 
every one may verify, — facts which seem to me of 
the profoundest significance in interpreting human 
life. I ask you to pass with me in thought one 
stage beyond the point where introspection usually 
goes. I ask you to consider the ego itself, behind 
the great stream of consciousness ; for, before we 
can build character intelligently and permanently, 
we must know what the self is that builds. 

I shall try to show that these facts concern- 
ing our inner life are just such conditions as are 
needed for fullest moral and spiritual development. 
But I have not yet fully stated these facts. This 
is but half the story. The other half is the untold 
history of the soul. This has been the neglected 
factor in human thinking. We have laid too much 
stress on environment. Nowadays it is the fash- 
ion to lay emphasis upon the thought process. 
But even this is insufficient. 

So much has been said and written in recent 
years about the power of mind over the body, the 
influence of mental atmospheres, and of harmful 
and helpful thoughts, that many have grown weary 
of the subject, and are earnestly seeking to gain 
this more fundamental knowledge. In the first 



burst of enthusiasm the importance of mere 
thought has been overestimated, as if it were pos- 
sible to accomplish anything we desire simply by 
thinking or affirming it to be so. 

Experience does not confirm this belief. There 
is a vast difference between thinking and accom- 
plishment, between merely believing or affirming, 
and living the virtue we believe. One might sit 
for hours wishing one's self in the next room, and 
thinking about the steps necessary to take one 
there. Yet until one should not only will to move, 
but also start, one would remain in the same posi- 
tion. To accomplish anything in the external 
world, we know that work must be done. The 
same law holds in the inner world. A large per- 
centage of our thoughts pass in and out of mind 
without making much impression. Ideals are af- 
firmed, and good resolutions without number pass 
through consciousness. But a resolution alone is 
of little consequence. We must do something. 
We must so think and act that a deep and lasting 
impression shall be made upon the life and char- 
acter. In other words, there are three stages 
through which we must pass, — knowing, doing, 
being. In this discussion we are concerning our- 
selves as far as possible with that part of us which 
can really act and be, and I shall have to ask your 
indulgence if I encumber the discussion with the 
uncertainties of the experimenter. 



7i 

Let us turn once more to the stream of con- 
sciousness which we have found involuntary and 
baffling. Let us try to catch the process of ac- 
tivity in its inception, that we may learn what 
deeds make for character and what acts unmake 
us. Note that in this baffling thought process all 
that we hold dear is present, — personality, love, 
attention, choice, the soul, companionship, — but 
in a different sense from that formerly believed 
when it was thought that God existed apart from 
the world and man was independent of him. 
When closely scrutinized, the facts simply mean 
that not even in our most sacred experiences, not 
even when we seem to be alone or most truly our- 
selves, do we possess one thought or volition inde- 
pendent of our environment, apart from the Life 
of which all movement and all consciousness is a 
sharing. Our philosophy must then take account 
of all these relations. All that we think and do is 
partly self and partly other than self. Freedom it- 
self would not be free without laws and conditions 
of liberty. Man is bound by law only so long as 
he fails to understand it. 

What we desire, therefore, when we ask our- 
selves in all seriousness, What is freedom ? is not 
independence to follow some caprice, but to live 
at peace and in harmony with what we have ; to 
be wisely and happily adjusted, and press onward 
to the realization of higher ideals. It is the man 



72 

of character who moves the world. And the basis 
of his power and understanding is recognition of 
what his inmost life is. This apparently helpless 
spectator carried down the stream of thought is a 
man of power because he lives in that stream. 
Out from the deep soul-centre in each of us pro- 
ceeds all that regulates life, so far as we play a 
part in it. It is a little centre, a mere point of 
energy, yet the most powerful centre of life's activ- 
ity ; and the whole clew to life's mystery is in- 
volved in the fact that we exert ourselves there, 
that potentially it is that part of us which shall in 
due time master all else. 

But to observe the soul in process of activity is 
like trying to grasp the river as it flows. I there- 
fore ask you to call the imagination into play, and 
picture yourself as temporarily outside the stream 
of thought, looking down upon it. Imagine your- 
self seated on the bank of a river on a beautiful 
summer's day. You are on a vacation and free 
from care. There is nothing to disturb you. You 
have decided to let the future provide for itself. 
You are seated there in a comfortable attitude, 
peacefully watching the rapidly flowing stream, its 
little eddies and rivulets, its calm spots and its 
rapids. You are for the time being like a great 
sage upon a mountain top, forever gazing out 
upon the play of the world, — simply the observer, 
calm, restful, and at peace. 



73 

I lay much stress upon this first stage, because 
without inner calmness one may not hope to 
develop character in this deepest sense. One must 
reach the stage where one can inhibit impulse, 
where one can calmly pause before an angry 
man, resist the temptation to pay him back in his 
own coin, and send out instead the spirit of love. 
To do this means that one has attained self-control, 
that one can say to one's lower self, Peace, be 
still ! and be obeyed. For the man of character 
is the one who concentrates and regulates his 
forces. The basis of this self-regulation is this 
calm centre within, and this may be developed 
by cultivating the power to observe in the quiet 
manner above described. 

At present, for example, become this calm ob- 
server looking out on the play of the world. Say 
to yourself, Peace, be still ! then wait and watch. 
This mass of sensations — of light, heat, cold, 
sound, hardness — coming from your immediate en- 
vironment represents the superficial layer in this 
ever-changing stream of consciousness on whose 
banks you are seated as the observer. This is the 
consciousness which makes us aware that we live 
in a world among beings like ourselves. Then 
comes the realm of thought about these feelings, 
the ideas suggested by our life with each other. 
We not only feel, but know that we feel, and 
have ideas or beliefs distinctively our own. 



74 

Out from the great realm of memory come the 
ideas which you have read and thought, and you 
are carrying on a sort of semi-conscious thought 
process, independent of the one this essay sug- 
gests. Finally, the thought becomes more quiet ; 
and you reach the plane of deep conviction, be- 
neath this realm of passing thoughts and emotions. 
Always you find yourself there, if you look. 
Deeper still you find individuality, ambition, the 
restless pressure of a self that is only partly 
evolved. Deeper yet, what do you find ? 

Is it not the great omnipresent Life of the uni- 
verse itself, welling up within and seeking expres- 
sion ? Is it not the presence of this Life within 
you which accounts for your ambition to develop 
character and do work of consequence in the 
world ? If so, then you have touched the deepest 
level. Character is not built out of nothing. The 
secret of life, when you have sounded the stream 
of consciousness, is to move harmoniously with the 
current which you find there seeking expression. 
The best result that can come from the cultivation 
of these moments of calm contemplation is the dis- 
covery of this under-current of life. Ordinarily, 
the mind is too active to perceive it. But by 
quietly observing, by turning away from physical 
sensation and the active pursuit of ideas, one may 
quietly settle down to harmony with it. 

How can one thus harmonize the thought with 



75 

the deep moving of the Spirit ? How can one 
take the current of life when it serves ? 

This question leads us to a consideration of the 
second stage in our introspective process. You 
are not only an observer of life's play, but also a 
chooser. Always in the marked experiences of 
life you are conscious of alternatives. When the 
angry man comes to you, you may return anger or 
send out love. When you see a person in suffer- 
ing or in danger, side by side with the prompting 
to hasten to his relief comes the temptation to 
wait and let some one else do it. All through the 
day, opportunities come before the observer for 
decision. How easily the choice is made ! How 
quickly we take the selfish course, and what stu- 
pendous results follow these acts of choice ! Is 
not the entire moral life summed up in this series 
of opportunities which we take or lose ? What 
more could we ask than the ability calmly to wait 
as observers until we should persuade ourselves to 
choose the wiser way, take the unselfish course, 
and thus make every deed tell in the endeavor to 
develop character ? What more could the uni- 
verse ask than that we should thus be true to the 
best guidance ? 

Take, for example, the nervous man. He is 
rushing at full speed, spending all his energy. 
Suddenly, in one of those decisive moments which 
mark a turning-point in life, the folly of the whole 



7 6 

procedure comes over him. He determines to be 
moderate, to take himself actively in hand. Per- 
haps he has resolved a hundred times to over- 
come his nervousness, but circumstances once 
more swept him on. This time he realizes that 
the whole matter is in his hands, that the circum- 
stances will not change until he changes them ; 
moreover, that his soul has the power to change 
them, that it is potentially a supreme master, but 
he has been unconscious of its power. Accord- 
ingly, he stops himself in his haste, and, to obtain 
full control, makes himself walk at first very 
slowly. He does not accomplish this without en- 
countering much opposition. Always, when we 
take a great opportunity, there is resistance to be 
met and mastered, — the resistance of bodily habit 
and selfishness. The essential is to know that 
we have the power to step in and control our 
forces, but have not exercised it, or at least only 
in part. How is it possible to make any progress 
until we do thus decisively take ourselves in 
hand ? 

Long experience in the endeavor to reform man- 
kind has shown conclusively that the only per- 
manent cure for human ills is the voluntary refor- 
mation of the man himself. It affords only tem- 
porary relief to doctor effects, to pass laws regu- 
lating the sale of liquors, or use external force. 
Behind the effect is invariably its cause. Back of 



77 

the habit, the sorrow, vice, suffering, is always the 
individual who thinks, acts, and suffers. 

With each individual there is a particular capa- 
bility, an intimately close desire or ambition. To 
know that individual power and to bring it into 
full control is clearly the way to bring about all re- 
forms in the world. There must first of all be 
desire to live a nobler, fuller life. No one can 
make this change for another. But, the desire once 
there, the way is open to the highest spiritual at- 
tainment. 

It is true, many maintain that we cannot change 
our dispositions. My leading thesis is that we can 
not only alter our temperaments, but modify ex- 
ternal surroundings, if we will thus strike at the 
heart of things ; that real power in life comes 
through the obstacles we overcome in ourselves ; 
that to him that overcometh shall be given ; that, 
in fact, the only solution to life's problem is to 
know how we have sinned and suffered ignorantly, 
how we have created our happiness and misery, 
and how, by self-knowledge and self-control, we 
may learn wisely to direct our forces and trans- 
mute them into spiritual power. 

All our trials, pains, and pleasures centre about 
the uncontrolled part of our nature. The intensity 
of the nervous man is revealed in everything he 
does. If he suffers, he suffers acutely. He is ex- 
tremely happy or most uncomfortable. The same 



78 

lack of reserve is revealed in his speech, in his 
handwriting, in all that enters into daily life. If 
he finds himself going too far in one direction, he 
reverses the machinery, and rushes to the other 
extreme. He is always flying off on a tangent. 
He has not yet found his centre, because, in a 
word, he is a creature of impulse. His forces pos- 
sess him, whereas he should possess and direct 
his forces. 

The development of the calm centre of self-con- 
trol must ever be the first step in the endeavor to 
change one's disposition. We can then little by 
little learn to hold ourselves still, and with a word 
of command marshal the undisciplined army of 
forces, tendencies, and impulses. After the ner- 
vous man has stopped himself again and again, 
every time he finds himself walking nervously, 
until by and by the walking machinery is under 
control, he can walk rapidly or slowly without 
hurrying within, without nervous tension, because 
he is master of the impulse that controls it. He 
attains this by developing a counter-activity ; that 
is, he takes time day by day to calm himself. He 
pauses again and again with the suggestion, Peace, 
be still ! Can we not say confidently that there 
is not a tendency in the human organism which 
can resist the power of such persistent endeavor, 
not a disease that cannot be overcome, no element 
of self or selfishness which cannot be conquered ? 



79 

But mere thought, I repeat, is not sufficient. It 
is not enough to hold and affirm ideals, to say we 
will change or that some time we will begin. We 
must take ourselves in the midst of a sentence, 
whenever we find ourselves nervous or excited or 
going off on a tangent, — take positive hold, and 
turn squarely and fairly the other way. If we go 
to excess and fail, then let us look back, discover 
our error, and try henceforth to be moderate, tak- 
ing full advantage of the lessons of our failure. 
There is sufficient power with us, but we have not 
rightly used it. It may be that we do not really 
change our dispositions ; but, at any rate, we learn 
how to redirect our forces in such a manner that 
the entire life is altered, and we learn this lesson 
only through repeated failure and gradual evolu- 
tion. 

But let us return once more to the thought 
stream. How is it that these decisive experiences 
become effectual ? Because the thought is concen- 
trated, the mind is held in command long enough 
to register an impression, an ideal, or picture on 
the responsive plate of consciousness. Think of 
the passing states of consciousness as a molten 
stream on which the thought is stamped.* 

The process may be illustrated by looking up an 
unfamiliar word in the dictionary. One reads 

*The transition from thought to matter I have considered elsewhere, — 
"The Power of Silence," p. 88 ; " In Search of a Soul," Chap. I. 



8o 



enough about it and thinks about it long enough 
to grasp its meaning, thereby making it a part of 
one's vocabulary. In the same way one firmly im- 
presses a confidently vigorous idea upon the mind. 
Yet it is the quiet thought about an ideal which is 
effective. Return, first of all, to the point of view 
of the observer. Calm yourself, and wait. Then 
think clearly and decisively. Remember that life 
is co-operative. We are not living to ourselves 
alone. Recognition rather than affirmation, — this 
is the way. One has no need to assert the will, if 
one knows the way, if one understands the law. 
All doubt, fear, worriment, and nervousness is use- 
less expenditure of energy. 

These calm moments in the inner world stamp 
their impress on the after life. One feels stronger, 
more self-reliant. Self has been put aside; and 
the triumph over self, — is not this the essence of 
the character-building process ? If the temptation 
to follow the selfish dictate is mastered, the power 
behind the temptation is transmitted to the higher 
plane. But, if one weakens before it, the next op- 
portunity to learn the lesson may be harder, until 
it becomes more and more difficult to conquer 
the rigid front of selfishness. 

It is really, then, a matter of economy to take 
the current when it serves. The quiet, decisive 
method of mastering self is surely the best way. 
Do not fight self as if it were a demon to be cast 



8i 



out. Turn your thought toward the higher ideal, 
and gradually the lower self will lose its power. 
Every time the selfish impulse comes, the personal 
aspersion, the sentiment of recrimination, retalia- 
tion, of jealousy or anger, pause a moment, become 
calm. Do not express it, but turn it into its op- 
posite. Do not judge, but calmly wait until you 
know. Have the broadest charity coupled with 
wise discernment. Root out sarcasm by refraining 
from giving it words. Do not make sport of 
others' beliefs. Be tolerant even of selfishness, 
knowing that all men are consciously or uncon- 
sciously engaged in the same moral struggle. Love 
even those who condemn, for they condemn through 
lack of knowledge of the creative process. When 
praise is given, look toward the highest, whence 
all your wisdom came, and avoid giving it a per- 
sonal turn. Take home and apply to yourself the 
law of reaction, noting that, even while you are 
observing the thought stream, you are sowing seeds 
which will bear fruit according to their kind. Is 
it not clear that people have neglected these little 
opportunities largely because they have not yet 
fully realized the absolute nature of the law of 
character-building ? 

Once realize the full meaning of this law, and 
you will see the tremendous responsibility put 
upon you. It is true that but a small part of life 
is voluntary. I would emphasize the fact again 



82 



and again that we live related lives, depending on 
one another, and every instant dependent on the 
Infinite Spirit. But here deep within is the 
chooser, stamping his choice by every deed he 
performs. 

It takes but the slightest move to turn the 
mind into self or out of it, into despair or hope, 
passion or love. All depends upon which way we 
turn, which set of thoughts or emotions we harbor 
in the inceptive stage. One must be keenly on 
the alert not to register fear, anger, passion, or 
selfishness. If you see the ideal you are to realize, 
you have nothing to do with faults and mistakes. 
These are unfinished deeds, aspirations on the evo- 
lutionary road to the fuller spiritual life. Throw 
yourself wholly on the hopeful side ; and every 
time your thought anticipates calamity or failure, 
bring it back, and send it forth to the realms of 
success. 

The wise man views life as a whole, and regards 
all errors and failures as means to the higher end. 
He is contented while doing the best he knows, 
for the way to enter a more congenial field is not 
to chafe under present circumstances. The place 
to meet our problem where its solution shall make 
one's character strongest is here where the prob- 
lem arises. Rich or poor, imprisoned or free, ill 
or in good health, every soul is on the same basis 
in this respect. Every life may be made beautiful 



83 

by the way it is lived ; and, the more trying the 
circumstances, the greater the victory may become. 
Whether we have a poor inheritance or a good one 
makes less difference than our attitude toward it. 
If it be good, one must learn how to deserve and 
keep it. If it be poor, here is an opportunity for 
self-development. To him that overcometh, more 
shall be given. It is not what our parents have 
done for us, but what we meet and master that 
gives us power. 

If one man is more highly favored than his fel- 
lows, then he is given a severer test in some new 
direction. Every man may be heir to the greatest 
moral power ; but, in order to express it, he must 
come to judgment, and begin gradually to live the 
ethical life. Character is never to be built for self 
alone. It comes at its best while we are living for 
others. Yet I am trying to show that the inception 
of all activity is in this deep-lying self -world of 
moral opportunities. 

There is one other aspect of the character- 
building process on which I would lay special 
stress ; namely, its physical side. As you look 
within to observe the interplay of thought, you find 
the spirit ever willing to come forth ; but the body 
is like a prison hampering the spirit on every side. 
Here, then, is an opportunity for co-operation on 
the physical plane. Where you find the body stiff 
and restricted, develop it by careful attention and 



8 4 

exercise until it is free. Remember that the soul 
is like the life of the rosebud : it is pressing from 
within, but it must have the favorable environment 
of atmosphere and sunlight in order to expand. 
And so with the body. If it is dense and compact, 
the right kind of exercise will free and perfect 
the instrument, so that it shall no longer be an 
obstacle. 

But throughout this discussion I have laid stress 
on the conditions we are born into, the obstacles 
that stand in our way, and the dangers of intro- 
spection. I have emphasized all this in order to 
show what splendid opportunities lie open before 
the man of character. From infancy to old age, 
in the inner world and in the outer, everything 
possible is done to defeat him. Here is the su- 
preme occasion. Let him seek the inner world 
where his own deepest conviction abides. Let him 
be true to it, come what may. Let him calmly, yet 
decisively, take his stand on the bed-rock of indi- 
viduality. These conditions are put there only to 
test him. They are the conditions necessary to 
call out his power. "The occasion makes the 
man," — if he takes it. 

Thus we turn each time to the truth that all life 
is related, that its purpose is mutual helpfulness, 
that its effect depends on the attitude we take. 
Every condition may be a help or a hindrance. 
We faint and weaken under circumstances. We 



85 

hesitate to express conviction, and haltingly keep 
back our real sentiments. But the greater power 
lies in us, and not in our environment. We are 
bound down only so long as we are willing. When 
the soul decides to make a change in lite, and 
come forth from its subjective prison, no power in 
the universe can stand in its way. 

In closing, then, I would lay emphasis on the 
ability to calm the mind and wait for opportunities. 
Again and again become the observer. When 
troubles and doubts come, seek the silent realm, 
and let the activities settle until you can see clearly 
and calmly. When you are too intense, wait for 
the commotion to subside. Learn by close scrutiny 
how you close and open, according to the nature of 
your mood, and thus acquire the habit of out- 
going, hopeful, altruistic thought and life. When 
supreme occasions arise, be calmly, persistently re- 
gardful of the consequences. Choose the wiser 
way, the unselfish course, the deed that makes for 
character. Do not falter before any obstacle that 
stands in the pathway of individual development 
along unselfish lines. If the task seems momen- 
tarily too hard, pause to gather reserve power. 
" In quietness and confidence shall be your 
strength." Not the serenity of the good-natured 
man who lets himself be trampled on, but the re- 
pose of the man who comprehends the law, the 
trust of the man who first of all trusts himself, the 



86 



dignity and self-protectiveness of the one who has 
wise self-respect. Through him the power of the 
Almighty is made known. Through him the 
gentleness of the Christ speaks. He stands for 
what he is truly worth. He lives what he believes. 
He helps his fellow-man by what he is ; and char- 
acter is the fruition of his life day by day, because 
he is faithful to the ever-present divinity otherwise 
called opportunity. Such a man can say with 
John Burroughs : — 

Serene, I fold my hands and wait, 
Nor care for wind nor tide nor sea ; 

I rave no more 'gainst time or fate, 
For, lo ! my own shall come to me. 

I stay my haste, I make delays : 

For what avails this eager pace ? 
I stand amid the eternal ways, 

And what is mine shall know my face. 

Asleep, awake, by night or day, 
The friends I seek are seeking me ; 

No wind can drive my bark astray, 
Nor change the tide of destiny. 

What matter if I stand alone ? 

I wait with joy the coming years ; 
My heart shall reap where it has sown, 

And garner up its fruit of tears. 

The waters know their own, and draw 

The brook that springs in yonder heights. 



87 

So flows the good with equal law 
Unto the soul of pure delights. 

The stars come nightly to the sky, 
The tidal wave unto the sea : 

Nor time nor space, nor deep nor high, 
Can keep my own from me. 



IV. 

A SCEPTIC'S PARADISE. 

We give up the past to the objector, and yet we hope. 
He must explain that hope. — Emerson. 

One day I awoke to the fact that I was a 
member of the philosophic society of the world. 
I cannot tell you how I, the plebeian Albert 
Hume, contrived to win my way into that delec- 
table world. Nor can I give an adequate reason 
for disconnecting myself from my paternal moor- 
ings to take up a wanderer's life. Suffice it that 
I found myself in the throes of metaphysical spec- 
ulation, and could not stop. 

I became an insatiable reader of the world's 
great books. I read, not only from curiosity to 
know what men had thought, but to master my 
own thought as well. For the greatest service a 
book did me was to stimulate thought. I made 
note of my ideas until I flattered myself that I had 
a fairly intelligible system. I studied Greek phi- 
losophy, and chose Socrates as my hero. I read 
Hume and Kant, Hegel, Schopenhauer, and their 
concomitants. I read the later English philoso- 
phers, not omitting the voluminous though un- 



critical Spencer and the suggestively sceptical 
Bradley. Meanwhile I delved into the philoso- 
phies of the East. I heard the Swamis and the 
Anagarikas, the Gandhis, the Theosophists, Spirit- 
ualists, and New Thought devotees. Darwin, 
Huxley, and the other great scientists long en- 
gaged my attention ; and I included the philosophic 
aspect of the great novels, histories, poems, and 
the art of all nations. In short, I made myself 
generally acquainted with the metaphysical wis- 
dom of the ages. 

What were the results of these intellectual pere- 
grinations ? I could not unqualifiedly accept any 
system of philosophy, for I found none that com- 
prehended all phases of life and thought. Limita- 
tions of temperament, environment, and experi- 
ence, I found voiced in limitations of doctrine. I 
found an abundance of diametrically contrasted 
systems of thought, each possessing its measure 
of what I pleased to call truth ; and I found no two 
philosophers, even of the first order, thinking pre- 
cisely alike. This was to be expected, yet it re- 
vealed the stupendous character of the philosophi- 
cal problem, as well as the difficulty of unifying so 
many phases of truth. In fact, I concluded that 
a complete philosophical system was impossible, 
since human experience is incomplete. At all 
this, however, I rejoiced ; for it was a fresh reve- 
lation of the beauty and wealth of the universe. 



9° 

Yet I found myself approaching decided limits 
in our knowledge. After a time I very seldom 
had a really new idea. In the enthusiasm of phil- 
osophic youth, I had taught philosophy with much 
confidence. The majority of people are of firm 
faith, and readily accept a new doctrine. I had 
taken my doctor's degree, and felt myself compe- 
tent to teach. But, once started, I had to run 
through the range of sceptically fundamental prob- 
lems, and question every cherished conviction. 
As a result, I found myself in each case wiser 
than before, but too wise to inculcate a positive 
doctrine. Much that I once believed established 
fact I discovered to be founded on mere belief. 
Theories abounded on every hand, but assured 
knowledge I could not obtain ; and this was what 
I sought, as it is indeed the aim of every truth- 
seeker. Every branch of knowledge I found fail- 
ing where I most eagerly sought enlightenment. 
Physics and chemistry, for example, are satisfac- 
tory to a certain point. But what is the "force" 
of the physicist, and whence come the chemist's 
" atoms " ? What positive evidence for the doc- 
trine of reincarnation can the Theosophist give ? 
What philosophy in the world is without its x> 
or term used to conceal ignorance of precisely 
the most important problem under consideration ? 
What a vast dismantling of ignorance would take 
place, were every philosopher compelled to set 



9i 

forth his reasons for believing in his Ding-an- 
sichy his Absolute, his " ocean of bliss," Nirvana, 
purgatory, fate, freedom, Jehovah, virgin, devil, or 
hell ! For, if I turned to theology, the result was 
the same, — everywhere assumption and dogma- 
tism. The alleged infallible revelation of the Jew- 
ish Bible failed to give unmistakable knowledge ; 
and I found innumerable interpretations of its 
texts. It is easy to quote Scripture. But what 
of it ? It is easy to say, " Obey the Father's will." 
But how are we to know of a certainty what his 
will is ? 

Again, the criteria of ethics are weakest where 
we would have them strongest. Does conscience 
tell us infallibly what is right and what is 
wrong ? Have we any definite knowledge of the 
mind apart from the physical body with which it is 
associated, and so conditioned that we can have 
peace only so far as the physical state permits ? 
Have we positive evidence of immortality? We 
believe it to be logical, and there is some evidence 
of continued existence ; but have we assurance of 
eternally unbroken life ? 

Who, if the truth be told, can even say any- 
thing definite about the soul ? I have looked 
within in vain to locate the soul. I seem like an 
imprisoned bird beating against the wires of his 
cage, when I try to penetrate my mind or extend 
the limits of knowledge. If I ask in all honesty 



9 2 

what I mean by spirituality, I must confess that I 
have often mistaken physical exaltation for spiritual 
power. I conclude that many are self-deceived in 
this regard. I find life beset with illusions, even 
now that I have eliminated manifold errors and 
continually seek absolute truth. A haziness sur- 
rounds all telepathic and spiritistic phenomena 
which as yet precludes me from real knowledge. 
I am open to conviction, but do not find the facts 
I seek. I find the theological systems of all re- 
ligions riddled with inconsistencies, though nearly 
all preachers talk as though they knew all about 
God and the spiritual life. If I follow a system of 
philosophy to its logical consequences, I find it 
ending in absurdity. Pantheism, for instance, as- 
sures us that all is God. Then he is the deviltry 
of the malicious and the filth of the slums as truly 
as he is the ice of yon snow mountain or the in- 
spirer of a prophet. 

If I were asked to believe in ultimate force, 
I should acquiesce ; for I continually observe its 
varied manifestations. But in the account of its 
activity I must include all that I find in the uni- 
verse, and not merely the good, or God. The one 
force reveals itself to me according to fixed laws, 
and I believe its tendency to be moral. But that 
is only my hope, not my knowledge. If I ex- 
amine the ideas of God held in the past, I find 
them commensurable with man's state of develop- 



93 

ment. They do not describe ultimate reality, but 
man's attempt to grasp it. Let them, then, be 
called man's experiences or beliefs, and not God. 
Even Spencer's " Unknowable " is his belief. 
There is no need of such a conception, for the 
existence of an Unknowable could not be known. 

Of one fact, however, I am certain ; namely, 
that the present phenomenon of consciousness 
exists. I cannot be an absolute sceptic. Though 
I doubt that the aforesaid Albert Hume really 
possesses a soul, I am forced to admit that con- 
sciousness is here. What the ego is that is con- 
scious I am as yet unable fully to discover. 
Therefore, I leave this an open question. 

Yet I conclude that what I call consciousness 
is somehow my consciousness, for I am unable to 
transcend it. This is the chief ground of my ag- 
nosticism. The utmost I can affirm of the power 
that gives me life is what I know through personal 
experience. I term it a higher power because its 
activity is brought before me despite my will. 
But my aspirations I must call mine, because, even 
if a God revealed them, I could know them only 
as my temperamental limitations should permit. 
My friends I know not as they are, but as my 
acquaintance with them makes possible. I have 
no assurance that I contemplate the same world 
another man sees, so widely do tastes, ideas, 
and organisms differ. My sensations are mine, 



94 



they are not yours. I do not even see the real 
world, only my conscious representation of it. I 
do not doubt that a real world exists, that people 
whom I love live in it, that I can become more 
ethical in my conduct. Nevertheless, I know 
only my side of the story. Much that I believe 
external may be in truth subjective illusion. I 
await further insight. 

Meanwhile, be it subjective or objective, I love 
the fair world of nature. I am happy with my 
friends. I am happy, too, because I make con- 
tinual progress. So far as I know, law is absolute. 
I am likely to sow as I reap, and need only regu- 
late my sowing. In my relations with my fellows, 
I am concerned only with my attitude toward 
them, not with theirs, unless they ask my help. 
Even then, I can teach them only as I personally 
deem wisest. I shall frankly tell them that I have 
only hope to give them, for I will not mask as one 
who positively knows. 

I am frank with myself. I would rather know 
that I am an arrant knave than pretend that I 
thought myself a saint. If others believed me a 
saint, my weakness in accepting their praise would 
be the cause of the harm to myself. I blame no 
one, for my personal consciousness alone gives 
cause for blame. Since the ultimate Power has 
not explicitly told me what to do, I do not know 
that I can be blamed for mistakes. I blame my- 



95 

self only when I fail to live up to my highest 
wisdom. I aspire even to live the Christ-life, but 
it is the Christ as I conceive it. I know not of a 
certainty who Jesus was. 

I find that I have periods of doubting every- 
thing. I must be a sceptic until I am sure of my 
beliefs. Though I pursue absolute truth, but do 
not find it, I delight in the pursuit. For me the 
world is an optimistic system just because truth 
is hard to find. I am ever the joyful sceptic. I 
would ever carry a cheering word to my fellow- 
men. I would not cast a grain of suspicion on 
the beliefs others choose to hold. I hope I am 
tolerant. But I believe life is ultimately rational ; 
and, undaunted, I shall continue the search for 
absolute reason. Between the periods of strenu- 
ous research, I entertain myself with my imagina- 
tion, with which I can build as many ideal states 
as I will. 

My mind is to me a paradise ; and, although I 
have eaten all the apples I could find on the tree 
of knowledge, no one has driven me from the 
garden. My scepticism gives me no discomfort ; 
for I am a man of faith, and I lose nothing by 
close scrutiny of my beliefs. I become more 
sincere as a result. I am wiser each day and 
month. I know enough to know that I know noth- 
ing. So, with genuine post-Socratic happiness, 
I look out on the world in calmness, with an 



9 6 

urgent word of advice to my fellow-men : Do not 
be afraid of scepticism, but press onward until you 
know where you stand, what you know as opposed 
to what you merely believe, and what a wealth of 
positive conviction is latent in scepticism itself. 

I am, in fine, a listener and an observer in the 
haunts of trees and men. No one can enter my 
world unless I open the way. If what I seek fails 
to come, I will calmly observe and wait, though it 
be for an age and a day. Why should I suc- 
cumb to fear and anxiety ? I should but disturb 
my mind, and be no wiser. Why should I yield 
to the temptations of sense or be severe with my 
fellow-beings ? I know of no way to escape the 
reaction, and it does not pay. 

I try to do my daily share of good in the world. 
I have a little money, every drachma of which I 
earned by honest toil. I own no land ; for I do not 
wish the care of property, and scenery is free. I 
have a wife whom I sincerely love, for whom it is 
my joy to live. My religion is devotion to truth, 
the religion of action ; my worship is enjoyment 
of music and nature. My friends call me an 
atheist ; but I love peace, virtue, beauty, wisdom 
and the boundless Source of these. They com- 
plain, too, that I wander from my native land to 
Alpine heights and the sacred temples of the East. 
But I must be active if I would forever grow. 
When periods of intense scepticism come, I find 



97 

that the only remedy is to rest the mind by a 
change of scene and mental environment. Then, 
when I return to active thinking, I am usually sur- 
prised at my growth, at the strength of my faith, 
and the value of the intellectual results already 
attained. Yet I am still the sceptic. I still seek 
evidence through wider experience. 

I seem to laud myself most audaciously in this 
frank effusion. Yet my standard for myself is as 
high as for the truth I seek, and I am far from self- 
pleased. I am an egoist, if you choose, imprisoned 
in the confines of my own solipsism. But I am an 
altruist by aspiration. If I speak in lightsome tone, 
remember that the world's riddle is not to be read 
with long-drawn face. I am contagiously happy, 
and feel no shame. Show me that I am wrong, 
and I will most gladly listen. All problems will 
remain open questions with me until I know truth 
beyond all doubt. I wait, I love and am happy. 
May the peace which comes only with matured 
thinking be yours, who read. And again I say, 
as a parting word : Be not afraid of investigation. 
Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis happier to be wise. 



V. 

THE OMNIPRESENT SPIRIT* 

Uttered not, yet comprehended, 
Is the Spirit's voiceless prayer. 

Longfellow. 

Few words ever uttered by man are more deeply 
suggestive than the text which I have chosen to-day : 
"In him we live and move and have our being." 
Only when Jesus speaks of God as the Father do 
we seem to draw nearer to the source of all life. 
But in these familiar words the most intelligible 
and acceptable doctrine of our relationship with 
the divine nature is expressed, which is to be found 
in any passage in the Bible or elsewhere. Let us 
consider how we may realize the divine omni- 
presence, that these words shall mean not only 
intellectual nearness to the Father, but open the 
soul itself to spiritual communion with him even 
here and now, where we have met in oneness of 
faith and love. 

As we look abroad over the face of nature and 
inward to the illimitable realms of thought, one 
fact stands out above all others as the fundamental 

* The substance of a paper read at the Church of the Higher Life, Boston, 
February, 1898. 



99 

truth of our observation. We discover that events 
follow one another in regular sequence. Every- 
where we observe the reign of law, and the evi- 
dences of system are so numerous that it is a mere 
truism to argue that behind this steady march of 
events there exists a first or ultimate cause. The 
idea of God is, in fact, a necessity of thought, for 
without it the theory of the universe is " burdened 
with the absurdity of an eternal succession of 
events " without cause or basis. Matter and force 
alone are insufficient to account for the past his- 
tory of the universe. There must have been some 
Power to determine the directions and forms of 
force and matter, since we find that their history 
records an evolution from lower to higher forms. 
It is therefore one of the first impulses of human 
thought to attribute causes to the events of life, 
and man's progress in mental development may be 
measured by the kind of God he believes in. 

The first tendency, however, is to conceive God 
as an external cause, far back of present events 
and necessary only to set the world in motion. 
But the doctrine of evolution has compelled us to 
revise our ideas of causation, and has thus laid the 
foundation of an accurate theory of the divine 
immanence. Causation as thus understood is a 
series of minute changes, the gradual accumulation 
of force through modification and transmission. 
This gradual development may be illustrated by 



IOO 

the acquirement of a trade. We know that it 
cannot be learned in a moment, but one detail 
after another in systematic succession. As we 
look back upon life, we know absolutely that every- 
thing was wrought according to this law of gradual 
attainment. 

Look out into the world of society, and you 
see exemplifications of this law on every hand. 
Every day brings some new event, everything new 
is a cause. So that the ideas and customs, the 
governments and methods, of society, are actually 
changing before our eyes. In the inner realm, for 
example, while we reflect upon this great theme, 
the mind obtains a keener grasp of it, and is mod- 
ified in some degree. Moreover, the process is 
unceasing. Each thought leads to another, and 
that one to a third, and, even when we sleep, the 
process continues subconsciously. One might in 
imagination trace out series after series of causal 
sequences running back to the past and lost in the 
vastness of eternity. The entire universe is a com- 
plexity of interrelated streams of causes and effects. 
Every great event is resolvable into a vast number 
of slight changes. It is the minor events that are of 
consequence. The world is made by them. The 
universe at heart is infinitely minute. Nothing is 
made suddenly. A planet is not hurled into space 
full made in a moment : it is sent forth and com- 
pleted during millions of years by the rearrange- 



IOI 



ment of atom by atom. And, the more highly 
organized the creation, the longer and more minute 
the process, — a process which in man is far from 
complete to-day. 

Consider, then, what this great fact means, this 
unbroken creative process governed by the law of 
minute causal sequences. Every doubt or hope, 
every feeling, is a part of that process. There can 
be no exception, since no event, no atom, falls out- 
side the creative life. Does it not make life sa- 
cred and holy in a new sense, — the realization that 
the creative power is differentiated into just such 
apparently trivial sensations and thoughts as we 
are conscious of to-day ? 

Here, then, is our starting-point. The omnipo- 
tent spirit is present in every thought, in every 
emotion ; and of such events all creation is com- 
pounded. Is it not futile to look farther than this 
for an ultimate cause ? Is not the creative life 
fundamental to every fact ? If so, we must take 
this minute experience in its fulness as the only 
complete revelation of God. 

We really know of the existence of God only so 
far as this experience and accurate thought about 
it have carried us. Of a Deity outside of these 
passing details we have no knowledge. In the 
Deity's life we live, in the Deity's mind we think, 
and by the Deity we are moved, or otherwise there 
is no God at all. The absurdity of the existence 



102 



of a Creator outside of nature appeals to the mind 
as soon as we clearly consider the absolute neces- 
sity of the presence of the creative power in every 
detail of life's minutest changes. 

Whether we start with a moment in present life 
or with the great thought of eternity, whether with 
an atom or a world, our conclusion is the same ; 
namely, that there could be but one ultimate life 
or being. Out from the great heart of the All- 
Father proceeds the creative love in continuous 
upwelling. Like a mighty river, it bears with its 
outflow all that constitutes life, each instant sus- 
taining, each moment renewing, atom or star in its 
course. Cause and effect are like drop and drop 
in the great mass of the flowing river. Every 
drop is a microcosm, every cause is the ultimate 
cause in miniature, every pulse-beat is essential to 
the existence of the one great life. Whatever 
springs from that one life must intimately partake of 
and could in no way be separate from it. Every 
painful as well as every pleasurable feeling must 
with equal surety be a part of that life. Even 
physical sensation, even the energy known as the 
power of evil, partakes of the same ultimate activ- 
ity. From this conclusion there is no logical es- 
cape, if we agree that all life is ultimately one. 

Such are the ultimate facts, stated coldly and 
emphatically. I put these facts thus coldly and 
definitely, in order to have a firm foundation for 



103 

the superstructure of the higher feelings and 
thoughts. It is unimportant what we call that 
power, if only we recognize the fact that there 
could be no other, and that its life is the life of the 
universe, carried out in detail by these minute acts 
of causation ; that the only real power is to be 
found in just these passing feelings and thoughts 
of which we are at present conscious. The only 
accurate statement of our lives taken in this gen- 
eral sense must then be that this being lives in us, 
lives through us, thinks as you and me, is con- 
scious in each of our sensations. There is no 
separate life, no other will; but just this life we 
know is God's life, just these unruly wills are in- 
timately related aspects of the power which knows 
no opposition. It is in your love and my love : it 
is the spirit which binds us together. 

But are you and I identical ? Is this panthe- 
ism ? Once more let us remember the only means 
of revelation, namely, experience. Experience 
tells us that you and I are different, that our 
relationship with the one life is what we make it. 
This is just as truly a fact as the existence of an 
immutable law superior to our wills. The nature 
of the one life must be such that it can exist 
or manifest itself through distinct centres of con- 
sciousness. I am just as truly myself as I am a 
part of God. You are so decidedly yourself that 
I cannot even know your inmost life and thought. 



104 

What, then, is the relationship between you and 
me ? and how can we be ourselves, yet at the same 
time parts of God ? 

It is at once clear that we cannot fully answer 
this question, since only the great All-Father him- 
self knows us as we live in him. Yet we can see 
some reasons. The All-Father would not be 
omnipotent, all-wise, and perfect unless he could 
thus create out of his own being a society of indi- 
vidual souls to manifest his attributes. This is 
the greatest miracle, and without it the Absolute 
would not be absolute. This is the great truth 
of every instant, that you and I are as free as 
though we alone existed, and at the same time so 
fully, literally, truly, a part of the one life that 
there is no part of us that is not also part of God.* 
Let us consider this great thought in detail, and 
see what bearing it has upon daily life. 

Have you ever paused to realize how large a 
portion of this daily life is regulated by what we 
call the unconscious, how few details are directly 
regulated by the human will ? At night we sur- 
render to this great unconscious with no positive 
assurance that we are ever to awaken again. But 
there is a power there to carry us through the 
wonderful hours of sleep ; and not only is the 
physical system restored, but fresh thoughts enter 
the mind and come later to consciousness. When 

* I have discussed the problem of individuality, " In Search of a Soul,'* 
Chap. IV. 



105 

we are ill, how little we do to heal ourselves, how 
large a part of the wonderful process of recovery- 
is due to what we call Nature ! The processes 
of life everywhere illustrate the same great de- 
pendence on something which we are pleased to 
call vitality or force, but the real mystery of which 
lies in the unconscious, and ultimately in the one 
great Life. 

In our human relationships the same beautiful 
law obtains. We are drawn to one another, we 
can hardly tell why ; nor are we conscious of our 
love until some new experience awakens it out of 
the unconscious. The effect is conscious, the 
cause lies in the realm of the unconscious. 

Thus one might pass in review all the events of 
life, and find that the essential, the life, the power, 
is in that boundless realm of unconsciousness 
which environs every fact. The history of human 
life is the story of the soul's progressive awaken- 
ing out of the unconscious. From merest infancy 
we are environed by the divine beauty and tenderly 
cared for by the divine love. Creation has always 
been continuous, a matter of minute modification ; 
but we are now becoming conscious of it. Is it 
too much to say that all error and suffering — yes, 
all evil — is primarily intended to awaken us to con- 
sciousness of our relationship to the eternal beauty 
and the eternal love ? 

We have long deemed ourselves independent, 



io6 



and so we go on living as if there were no God. 
But a day comes when supreme suffering touches 
the human heart, and the soul feels utterly weak and 
helpless. It is then that theory gives place to 
reality. It is then that one knows absolutely that 
there is a closely present spirit ; for a sustain- 
ing, peace-bringing power comes to carry the soul 
through its dark hours. One simply gives up to 
this upwelling stream of creative love, to move 
with its tide. As we look back upon life, we 
realize that somehow we have always survived. 
The burden many times seemed too hard to bear. 
But without this helplessness and this despair we 
would not have known the Father. Is it not prob- 
able that in every instant of life we are as truly 
dependent, but have not known it because of our 
ignorance of the law of creation ? Is it not be- 
cause the Father is intimately near, in the inmost 
heart of every soul, of every word and deed, that 
we so often neglect him ? 

This intimate nearness may be illustrated by 
human fellowship at its best. It is not in the 
spoken word, the glance, or the demonstration of 
affection that we show our deepest love for one 
another. But love at its best is unspeakable : it 
shows in the deed, in the life. It may even con- 
ceal itself, and do that which is long misunderstood, 
yet at the same time be so deep, strong, and 
constant that it would make any sacrifice to be 



107 

true and loyal to its own. It is a sacrilege to ask 
such love to voice itself. The deeper it is, the less 
one can say about it ; and oftentimes it is only at 
the separation which comes at the close of a long 
lifetime that some measure of it is known, although 
it has lived and moved and had its being in every 
thought and deed of the devoted life. 

Is this not true of the relation between man 
and the Father ? Is not the Father's unspeakable 
devotion revealed in our sorrow and our suffering, 
even in evil and strife ? Have we not doubted 
him long enough, while seeking to describe his 
nature by intellectual formulas and ferret out 
life's ultimate secret in the laboratory ? All these 
things reveal him, too ; but, like the discussion of 
the nature of love, they are cold and secondary. 
To know what love is, you must love and be loved. 
To know the real God, you must perceive him 
down deep in your life, in every moment, in every 
pang and joy. This outer life of ours, with all its 
insincerity and conceit, is unwordably superficial as 
compared with this deep under-current of divine 
communion. It is not until the soul has passed 
beyond all this and has been awed to silence that 
one really knows. There, in that deepest realm 
of human consciousness, one may truly find the 
Father. 

And so this discovery of the under-current of 
divine inflow suggests the ideal of a life governed 



io8 



by a higher law than that which generally rules 
mankind, — a life where one's sole endeavor shall 
be to do the Father's will, or, in other words, to 
express through our lives the love, the spirit, the 
highest tendency, in the great evolution of which 
we are a part. At first thought, it seems like 
submission to do another's will. But it is the free 
choice of that will as it appeals to us individually. 
It is the relationship of love. 

Since it is the warm, loving human God we 
are seeking, and not some cold abstraction, let 
us again turn to social life for an illustration of 
this relationship. Let one of two friends discover 
that the other has a stronger will and exercises 
too great an influence. Accordingly, the weaker 
one — perhaps it is a wife — concludes that she 
ought to assert her individuality. She therefore 
takes steps to preserve her freedom. She exerts 
her personality, and in the end puts up a barrier 
which perhaps drives man and wife apart. And 
so always, when pressure is used, self-assertion 
and the like, some one must suffer ; and the de- 
sired object is defeated. But the higher way is 
love's way. Love knows that all souls exist in 
equality. There is no high and no low. Each 
expresses the divine life, each bears a sacred and 
eternal relation to the Father which nothing can 
alter, each soul is free to be itself and to hold 
its place in society. There is no need to assert 



109 

this individual soul, nor impose the fact of its 
freedom upon other souls. One needs simply to 
understand the law, to recognize this sacred re- 
lationship. Love grants the same freedom to all. 
It is the highest degree of freedom which gives 
the most individuality. It is when I am least 
self-assertive, when I am thinking least of self 
and am most outgoing, that I am freest, strong- 
est, and most truly myself. I need not then try 
to discover if another mind be stronger than my 
own. If I love enough, I need not guard my 
rights and privileges, for all this takes care of it- 
self. 

Thus it is ever true that he that loseth his life 
shall find it. He only is free and individual who, 
forgetting his mere self, lets himself out sincerely, 
trustfully, in the spirit of love. What discords 
might be avoided, what joy could come into life, if 
this law were generally recognized ; namely, that 
freedom, that individuality, is not to be fought for, 
but that all is put in its right relation when we truly 
love and understand ! Is it not ignorant self- 
assertion which causes misery and discord ? Is it 
not because we are anxious to carry out some de- 
sire of our own that we plan, crowd, and give 
ourselves so much worriment ? 

All life is an awakening ; and, if we are wisely 
awake, we need not assert. That love or individ- 
uality, that freedom or soul-power, which depends 



no 



on continual affirmation, is not yet the genuine 
spirit. When you see a man struggling to defend 
himself, you may know that he is not free. If I 
must force myself to do a thing, then I am only 
partly adjusted to myself. There is a way of 
thinking, a way of doing and being, which will 
spare us the friction of life, — an easiest, happiest 
way. All the sorrow, all the regret, the fear, 
doubt, and worriment which harasses our lives may 
be spared. But, just because it is the easiest and 
simplest way, it is hardest to find, the one which 
man is slowest to adopt ; for it calls upon each 
soul to do the hardest deed, — namely, to conquer 
self, to let go, to trust, to become receptive, 
consciously to take the opportunities of life. We 
are not ready to believe that, if we would trust, 
all things would be provided. We do not yet see 
that the realization of individual ambition, the 
fullest degree of service for humanity, and the 
at-one-ment with the divine will are the same, and 
that, consequently, there is nothing to give up. 

The creative power may be taking precisely the 
course through these circumstances against which 
we rebel, to bring all we desire. But what a hard, 
hard lesson, that of harmony with the creative 
tendency ! How long it is ere we learn not to in- 
terfere with others, but to see the wisdom of life as 
it is, in process of becoming, and as we may make 
it ! We think we know a better way than the 



Ill 



optimism Nature has spread so bountifully before 
us. We fear that a few million souls will be 
lost unless we personally save them. We be- 
lieve our last chance for salvation is at hand. 
We think we understand other people's needs 
better than they, as though Nature had bereft 
some souls of this great possibility, as though she 
had left some without guidance and had been 
partial to us. And so we fret and fume impa- 
tiently, and reach forth to take a hand in affairs. 

Let us shake off this servile distrust, and take 
home this one great truth of life, — " In him we live 
and move and have our being," — and think it out in 
all its details until we understand the wonderful 
possibilities which it involves. Then let us show 
by our lives and thoughts that we really believe it. 
For this does not mean mere passivity : it is not 
circumstances which we are to take as they are, 
but we are to harmonize with the spirit which 
moves through them. If I depended on circum- 
stances alone, I might wait forever for a change of 
condition. It is when I learn their meaning, when 
I feel the uplift or moving of the higher power, 
that I advance out of them. 

I think you will find that man has gone through 
three stages in his attitude toward God. The first 
stage is that of belief in a power outside of himself 
and the world. God is worshipped, feared, or hated 
as the Creator, the deified man. Man feels him- 



112 



self bound by a power whose will is greater than 
his own, and he rebels or is awe-struck. In the 
second stage the idea of a personal God gives 
place to belief in force, power, or a sort of pan- 
theistic spirit. Man feels himself carried irresist- 
ibly forward, and submits. He becomes mild, 
passive. This is largely the philosophy of the 
Orient. The third stage is the one which finds 
special emphasis here in America, the land of en- 
terprise, of belief in individuality. It is the re- 
discovery of man's pristine enthusiasm, in the light 
of all that is true in the philosophy of the East. 
The East believes in spiritual unity ; the West, in 
the power and freedom of the individual soul. 
We are learning that both philosophies are in part 
true. 

The discovery that in the one spirit I live and 
move and have my being is the discovery that I, 
too, am a creative power. We do not know God 
when we falter and rebel because of the pressure of 
law. We deny one-half the glory of creation when 
we accept the pantheistic view. No law stands 
in the way of the soul, but the soul must harmo- 
nize with the law in order to transcend it. The 
higher law is the soul's method of conduct. The 
soul will probably make its own circumstance when 
it is consciously free. Its times for silence, for 
receptivity, are not the occasion for submission or 
passivity. In these moments the soul becomes re- 
ceptive, that it may know how to go forth and act. 



**3 

In the hurry and strife of daily living, again and 
again one loses sight of the higher way. Every 
time we fail, each time the way is obscure, and our 
problems complex and burdensome, there is this 
great resource : Return to nature. Return to the 
unconscious. Sleep, rest, meditate, become recep- 
tive as a little child, and once more listen for the 
chord of the infinite musician, the divine key-note. 
Seek harmony with the spontaneous prompting, 
then move forward confidently. 

Is not the secret of life involved in the adjust- 
ment between our times of silence, or return to 
harmony with God, and the activity which that 
communion inspires ? Some dwell too long in the 
silence, and lose enthusiasm ; become unresponsive 
and dead, figuratively speaking. Others are too 
active, and lose all sense of connection with God. 
Let us have the gentleness of the Orient combined 
with the energy of the Occident. Awake, arise, 
and be true to the ambitions, the ideas and feel- 
ings, the hopes and gifts, of your individual soul. 
But, when you awaken, remember the rights of 
other souls, remember the power of individuality. 
It is one and God that make a majority. When I 
stem the divine tide, I am helpless. When I 
move with it, I own the universe. 

I feel the divine strength when I am strongest 
in myself. I must take a strong attitude of soul 
and body, in order to invite the greater power of 



H4 

God. In him I not only live, but I move, I act. 
So far as I know, I am a free moral agent. God 
supplies me with life and with opportunities. He 
apparently gives me all that perfect love and wis- 
dom can command. He has planted within me 
certain tendencies which, if followed, will prob- 
ably lead to the highest and fullest life. He is 
every moment actively present with me. Through 
every deed he lives, through every emotion he 
feels. But with all this wealth of helpfulness at 
my command I make my own life ; for I must first 
choose, I must act. In order to realize my fullest 
life, I must find my centre, become poised. To 
find my true centre is to learn my real relation to 
God ; namely, that the soul is an agent of the cre- 
ative or spiritual life, the heir to boundless hope. 

Thus all other revelations of God become 
secondary to that of the individual soul. If I 
do not find him there, if I am not true to him 
there, I must not expect really to know him in the 
outer universe. God has a message for me 'alone. 
When I have first heard that, then I may under- 
stand his message to other souls. The point each 
of us has reached to-day in knowledge of God is 
precisely the power each has attained to think out 
for himself these revelations of which I have been 
speaking, — the power of the soul to open itself 
afresh to the great Over-soul. 

The supreme test of faith, therefore, is to live 



n5 

during the intervals in the spirit and remembrance 
of these rarest experiences in life. One is per- 
mitted to have them, that daily life may be made 
nobler. Always, if one has touched the soul 
centre, there is a feeling of refreshment, the 
renewing of life. Then one must go forth into 
the world, take up the problem of life, and in- 
fuse into it some measure of this new inspiration. 
Thus the realization that in him we live and move 
may become more and more practical. Take this 
truth into your thought. Carry it into your work, 
and let it speak through voice and countenance. 
When fear and doubt come, know that you are 
not trusting the Father. 

When anything happens to agitate and trouble 
you, turn to this supreme resource, and connect 
hopefully in thought with it. Above all else, look 
for the spirit, the love, the unspeakable silence. 
Higher than the definite thought is the commun- 
ion with the living essence itself. If you really 
feel that, you will not be hampered by forms and 
words ; but more and more the spirit will come as 
the comforter, as love, gently, tenderly, a sustain- 
ing presence. More and more one's prayer will be 
the prayer without ceasing, that deep underflow of 
spiritual consciousness which is never broken. 

If you can hold in thought there for a time, a 
helpful response will surely come. If it is true 
that the divine life is immanent in us all, then it is 



n6 



needless to reach forth and away to find it. It is 
here, concerned with the next step in our develop- 
ment, not with some far-off ideal. It adapts itself 
to just your need and mine to-day. Is not this 
the supreme wonder and beauty of the immanent 
Life, its sympathy with, its participation in all that 
we are and all that we do, its marvellous diversity 
of manifestation ? 

By the omnipresent Spirit, then, I mean more 
especially the aspiring and directive tendency of 
evolution. I do not insist on terms, I hold to no 
hard-and-fast conception of the divine nature, to no 
fixed Absolute. I willingly sacrifice the concep- 
tion of personality. I would simply be true to the 
facts of life, the tendencies they reveal and the 
hopes they suggest. Here in the evolving present 
is the holy of holies. Here in these passing de- 
tails is the real creative power. Name that power 
as you please, you cannot dodge its persistent rev- 
elation of law, evolution, beauty, and the endeavor 
to attain a higher goal. Your own life furnishes 
the data through which you may know this one 
Life. You find that Life startlingly near when 
you look, and consciousness fails to discover one 
fact which is not fairly alive with the omnipresent 
Spirit. 

Yet the supreme revelation of the immanent 
Spirit is higher than that which the soul thus con- 
sciously thinks about or seeks. In the supreme 



ii7 

moments of life the Spirit seeks us. In those 
calmer, more receptive hours when we forget that 
we are receptive, the infinite Wisdom makes its 
presence known. The other revelations seem to 
come from below, they have evolved with us. 
This comes from above, and the soul is touched by 
humility in recognition of its coming. 

Trust and humility are the supreme essentials. 
Calmly and gently the spirit breathes upon the 
soul as if to create it anew. One feels the infi- 
nite joy and blessing of existence. An unspeakable 
peace rests upon mind and heart. Fear, doubt, and 
antagonism disappear in the spirit of the divine 
love. The soul is touched to its deepest centre, 
so that it can say to all else in life : Peace, be 
still ! the hour is holy. The Father is here. In 
him I live and move and have my being. 



VI. 

THE PROBLEM OF EVIL. 

" For nothing is that errs from law." 

The correct statement of a problem has long 
been deemed an important step toward its solution. 
If we cannot fully solve the enigma of life, we can 
at least eliminate unintelligible attempts at its 
solution by more accurately denning the object of 
our search. The problem of evil has long been 
beset with difficulties which never belonged to it, 
owing to the erroneous terminology in which it 
has been clothed. In this chapter I shall try to 
clear away some of these difficulties by more clearly 
defining the issue. 

At the outset it is clear that, if our theory of the 
universe is to be practical as well as metaphysical, 
the doctrine of evil which we adopt should leave 
no excuse for wrong-doing. If it be asserted that 
"evil is good in the making," or a means to a good 
end, the sinner may then take license to do evil, 
that good may come. There must be moral and 
intellectual discrimination, or no solution of our 
problem, either practical or metaphysical. Says 
Browning : 



ii 9 



" All is not wrong, as long as wrong seems wrong." 
" Though wrong were right, 
Could we but know — still wrong must needs seem wrong 
To do right's service, prove man weak or strong, 
Choosers of evil or good." 

Evil, then, is unconditionally bad. It is not to 
be played with. It is never to be excused. It 
must ever be recognized for what it is. But it 
does not follow because a wrong act — for exam- 
ple, a murder — is utterly vile in itself that the 
man who committed it is wholly depraved. 

There is no escape from the conclusion that 
there is but one Reality in the universe. All 
power, therefore, originates in this Life. The 
misspent power employed in an evil deed must be 
part of this one Life. It cannot as such be evil, 
however it is misused by man. By the same 
reasoning, also, all substances, even the ultimate 
atoms, if such exist, must be good in themselves ; 
for it is almost a truism to say that harmony, and 
not chaos, reigns at the foundation of things, since 
the universe is a system. The most pessimistic 
statement our logic permits us to utter, therefore, 
is this, that the universe, both ideally and actually, 
owns a balance of good. 

It might, however, be argued that even a good 
Creator could create tempters, or evil spirits, as 
needed factors in a moral universe. But would 
such beings be condemned to ply their vile calling 



120 



forever ? Would there be no hope for them ? If 
so, the Creator would be unjust. Consequently, 
if tempters exist, they must, like ourselves, be 
those who are susceptible of being redeemed. 
Moreover, such beings would require to be tempted 
by a worse devil ; and we should come at last to 
the devil of devils. But the prince of tempters 
would be an immensely clever fellow, whose life 
would be a careful adjustment of means to ends, 
and thus far good. An utterly bad devil, then, is 
clearly an impossibility. And why should we look 
for tempters outside of ourselves ? Even if we 
were tempted, there would be a side of us left 
open to temptation ; and it would be our fault that 
we were tempted. Do we not know, as a fact, that 
it is our lower selves that tempt us ? The selfish 
self is the devil in the world. Would it not be 
a mere excuse if I should allege that another 
tempted me ? 

Evil, then, is brought close home to us. " Let 
him who is guiltless cast the first stone." We are 
well aware that, if we had possessed more knowledge 
of self and more self-control, we would not have 
sinned. That form of helpfulness which teaches 
the evil-doer how to imderstand and possess himself 
is the truest kind of moral reform, not that which 
condemns. We do not know enough about another, 
and we are not good enough ourselves to condemn. 
"Judge not, that ye be not judged." 



121 



That we voluntarily choose to follow temptation, 
after we have learned that we ought to obey the 
higher self, may be due to the fact that we are 
diseased, partly or wholly insane, burdened with an 
inheritance which we do not understand, overloaded 
with passion which we know not how to control, 
and many other personal causes, — all of which 
point to the undeveloped character of the sinner. 
The wrong act, inexcusable in itself, may, through 
the sense of shame or the stirring of conscience, 
lead the sinner to reflect until he learns its evil 
character and the beauty of the righteous life. 
The virtues of one age become the vices of another, 
when man becomes more enlightened. 

Error, crime, and evil — like war, disease, and 
pain — may then be deemed the frictions of our 
emergence into an enlightened condition. Consid- 
ered by themselves, they are as vile as ever. But 
they are the products of our way of living ; and the 
self that has suffered from them may sometime 
turn, not the deeds, but their effects on him, into 
good account by reacting in favor of righteous 
living. Thus may be evolved in time the sinless 
life, or perfect type, commonly called the Christ, 
which, when chosen, becomes the only life of 
which one can say, unqualifiedly, that it is good. 
And he who has taught us to aspire toward that 
life was the most devoted to the unrighteous, with 
whom he mingled that he might uplift them. Can 



122 



there be any complete solution of the problem of 
evil short of this beautiful life of service as exem- 
plified by Jesus ? 

When, therefore, we state a law or principle, we 
must know the conditions to which the law applies. 
One may not safely say to the criminal or sensuous 
man, " All is good " ; for he needs moral instruction 
rather than license. But, when one has come into 
fulness of understanding, and is trying to live 
the Christ-life, when everything which the inner 
attitude attracts means soul development, then one 
can welcome whatever may come, knowing that it 
is good. To the wise only "All is good." The 
wise only see the solution of the problem of evil ; 
for evil is to be understood, not by speculating 
about it, not while we are in its toils, but when we 
have transcended it by living a righteous life. 

But the orthodox critic, who has throughout this 
discussion scarcely possessed his soul in patience, 
now bursts forth with a torrent of anathemas. 
"Away with such a vile doctrine!" he insists. 
" You have left no place for the atonement. You 
would fain persuade us that man is good. But it 
is false, it is false. Man is bad. Only the blood 
of Christ shall save him." 

Thus does the theologian ever retreat upon 
dogma. He must maintain his creed at any cost. 
Man must be wicked, or the whole orthodox system 
falls. Yet what ground can he base his belief 



123 

upon, when the theologian is pressed to the ut- 
most ? It is easy for him to repeat a prayer in 
which man is called a " miserable sinner " ; but, if 
you call him such, does he not deem it an insult ? 
It may be a theological necessity, to believe in the 
perversity of the human will. Yet is it not the 
surrender of all hope, the abdication of all effort 
and desire? Who would believe it of himself if 
the question were put in all sincerity ? If it be 
true, one might as well begin a life of mere pleas- 
ure at once, since all attempts at self -improvement 
are in vain. If true, then we have no reason to 
expect redemption ; for there is naught in us worth 
redeeming. If it be true, then let us show by our 
conduct that we believe it instead of appearing in 
public as models of virtue. But, if we have hope 
for ourselves, if we find two selves struggling 
within, — one of which we believe will conquer, and 
virtue become supreme, — then let us hold the same 
hope for humanity, and throw theological necessity 
to the winds. Let us be no severer with the 
basest sinner than with ourselves. 

But if the critic, as a last resort, deserts theology, 
and turns to the facts of actual life, we must admit 
that there is a nether side of the world. For ex- 
ample, take disease. It is futile to deny that its 
existence is a grievous burden. Yet it is the 
natural result of man's mode of life. Each year it 
is better understood. We are learning more and 



124 

more about its mental aspects, its hidden causes 
and spiritual cure. There is reason to believe that 
by self-knowledge, prudence, and careful sanitation, 
it may be entirely overcome. And who would 
maintain that pain is evil, since it is the penalty of 
excess, the warning to man that law governs all, 
the intimation of Nature that she is healing our 
injuries ?* 

Man is still sensuous, and his passion results in 
sin and crime. But there is hope for him in the 
philosophy of transmutation, which, instead of con- 
demning his passion as evil, helps him to purify it. 
Wonderful changes have already been wrought by 
those who, rejecting the orthodox creed, have 
approached the problem in this optimistic spirit. 
Thousands would gladly overcome the animal in 
them if they knew how. Shall we regard human- 
ity disconsolately, when knowledge of the laws of 
evolution is so recent, while the fetters of pessimis- 
tic theology still encumber our feet ? The race is 
young yet, and the sex problem is fraught with 
tremendous issues which only the ages can solve. 
Many a false idea must be rooted out ere the 
transmutation become universal. 

Poverty is a fact which is not so easily compre- 
hended. It is traceable in part to the ignorant 
and unevolved condition of the larger part of the 
race. Every pauper one meets shows by his 

In another volume, "The Power of Silence," Chap. V., I have elaborated 
this theory of pain. 



125 

demeanor the reason for his poverty. Nature 
invariably enforces her laws here as elsewhere, 
intermingling the usual compensation. One finds 
a surprising measure of contentment, even among 
the struggling peasants who know not whence 
their food is coming. One may give them the 
clew to success by pointing out the law of action 
and reaction, by calling their attention to the con- 
ditions observed by their more fortunate competi- 
tors. It is indeed difficult to justify the selfish 
severity of their oppressors. Yet factors are at 
work, even among the capitalists, which must ulti- 
mately better the laborer's condition. The contest 
of capital and labor is obviously a phase of our 
evolution, and we are at present experiencing one 
of its dreariest stages. Here again, however, it 
is far too soon to condemn the universe. The 
present-day philanthropist is keenly alive to the 
issue, and is persistently doing his utmost to meet 
it. There is hope in the fact that we are now 
conscious of wrongs which once passed unnoticed, 
hope in the fact that such blots upon civilization 
as the Kalifate are wiped out, that the villiany of 
the Spaniard and the Musselman is emphatically 
condemned, while the power of semi-barbarous 
nations is dying. The hope of the race lies in 
the wonderful gain each year witnesses of altruis- 
tic sentiments over egoistic. Organized charity 
makes many a mistake in its kindly endeavor. 



126 



But it is a joyous fact that it exists ; and the 
lowly state alike of the superstitious, the needy, 
and the fallen, is the grand opportunity of the 
wise. 

Nations still make warfare upon one another, 
but the power of arbitration grows apace. War is 
fast becoming an impossibility through the inven- 
tion of its fearful agents of destruction. Crime 
brings with it the power which stamps it out, and 
society will bear only a certain degree of corrup- 
tion. Over against every dark fact in life one can 
put a hopeful sign, foremost among which is the 
growth of the higher education, which teaches man 
to think, to respect and cultivate his individuality. 
The thinking world is rapidly freeing itself from 
orthodoxy. The development of the brotherhood 
of man and fellowship in religion has received a 
great impetus since the Parliament of Religions in 
1893. The past two generations have witnessed 
a wonderful spread of interest in metaphysical 
questions, and everywhere small companies of 
people have gathered to discuss the relation of 
practical optimism to the problems of disease and 
sin. 

But it is needless to enumerate facts. If we 
have defined the issue, that is sufficient. In the 
discussion of the problem of evil, the first essential 
is to free the mind from dogmas which it seeks to 
substantiate at any cost. It then becomes at once 



127 

clear that there is no absolute evil ; * for standards 
vary from age to age, and evil is such only when 
judged by the ideal of the age which condemns it. 
We have before us, therefore, the facts of life as it 
exists to-day. The issue is left entirely with evo- 
lution. The optimistic view of it is the only prac- 
tical doctrine. There is ground neither for con- 
demnation nor despair, but simply for helpfulness. 
Man thinks and acts as he does because he has 
advanced no farther in evolution. His conduct is 
the exact result of what he is. Change him, and 
you shall see him living a better life. Do not 
frighten him into a belief which is to save him 
from some hypothetical hell. Help him to under- 
stand himself, teach him the laws of growth, and 
elevate his standards. Explain and emphasize the 
laws of character-building, and show him that his 
mistakes and failures are due not to wilfulness, 
but to ignorance of self and lack of self-control. 
Encourage him by pointing out the method of 
conquering our unruly selves through moderation, 
poise, and thoughtfulness, in the deep inner world 
where all our activity originates. Insist upon no 
theories, and do not impose your methods upon 
him, but inspire him to look at the facts of life for 
himself, the possibilities it contains, and the hope 
it offers. Here is the way out of the nether world 
into the superior. Here is true sympathy, charity, 

*See "The Perfect Whole," Chap. VII. 



128 



and love. Be as fair with all men as with your- 
self. Offer them the same encouragement, and 
give them the benefit of your own struggles. The 
problem of evil is not wholly dark, when viewed in 
this light. It is not wholly solved. But hope is 
still boundless ; and out of these patient endeavors 
to lift our fellow-men shall come, little by little, 
the joy and beauty of a nobler life. 



VII. 

THE ESCAPE FROM SUBJECTIVITY. 

" He that loseth his life shall find it." 

One of the most strongly marked tendencies in 
the progressive thought of the last quarter of a 
century is the endeavor to explain life by reference 
to our inner attitude. The discussion commends 
itself at once to common sense, for a close psycho- 
logical analysis shows that the centre of activity 
lies within. Practical philosophy has received 
great impetus from this discovery, while the indi- 
vidual solution of the problem of life is greatly 
simplified. The truth is, in fact, brought home 
with such force that one is left with no alternative 
but to begin to know one's self, to practise self- 
control, develop character and spiritual poise, and 
take advantage of the possibilities of optimism and 
the numberless opportunities which ethical think- 
ing presents. 

But after a time the mind discovers a difficulty 
almost as serious as the problem of evil. If one 
accepts the solution of the great mystery sug- 
gested in the foregoing chapter, the subjective 
( world becomes fairly beset with burdens demand- 



130 

ing the soul's attention. Philosophical idealism 
adds its word by showing that all we know of the 
objective world is acquaintance with our mental 
representation of it. Scepticism makes a strong 
contribution by doubting whether we ever pass 
beyond purely egoistic consciousness. And the 
perplexed thinker looks out in despair upon the 
strange world his surprisingly rich personality has 
apparently created. Practical philosophy, too, 
enters its word of protest. It suggests the possi- 
bility that regard for the personal attitude alone 
may cause one to become self-centred and ab- 
sorbed in contemplation of faults and virtues. 

The danger is surely serious. One sees many 
selfish people who make this their rule. They 
look within, conclude that their attitude is right, 
then assume a superior, indifferent, unsympathetic, 
or critical attitude, which makes them disagreeable 
companions. Many, too, have practised spiritual 
meditation until they mistook egoistic emotions for 
intimations of "the Absolute." There has been 
much self-gratulation in recent years, due to the en- 
deavor to develop a philosophy of mental causation. 
There has been a tendency to neglect the outer 
world, and deem even Nature the product of our 
mental life. Subjective idealism is carried to such 
an extreme that one frequently hears of the law 
and order, the beauty and variety, of the physical 
universe characterized as so many aspects of 



i3i 

man's belief, as though matter had no qualities of 
its own, and Nature only such beauty as the mind 
of man projects into it. In his "Grammar of 
Science," Karl Pearson goes so far as to say that 
scientific law describes "the routine of our per- 
ceptions." But H. V. Knox * shows conclusively 
that there is no routine of our perceptions. 
"Consciousness of routine is very far," he says, 
"from being the same thing as routine of con- 
sciousness." If there is one fact persistently 
forced upon human consciousness, it is the ob- 
jective regularity of Nature. The prudent man 
ever tries to bring his conduct up to the level of 
nature's routine. "The universe is invested with 
inevitable conditions which the unwise seek to 
dodge." The critic may therefore well take ob- 
jection to methods of self-help which tend to im- 
prison one in the subjective realm, with all its 
subtleties and illusions, to the neglect of the laws 
and actualities of objective nature. 

The careful reader need not be reminded that 
the doctrine of this book is the reverse of this. 
Unless one look within to adjust conduct with due 
consideration for others, to free others from blame, 
help them, by becoming unselfish, sympathetic, and 
loving, to become aware of the splendid possibilities 
of hope and the outgoing life, one would better not 
introspect. Self-consciousness is an intermediate, 

*Mind, April, 1897. 



132 

never rightfully a final, stage of development. One 
is to look within, — not to make life smaller and 
exclude others, but to make it large enough to 
include all humanity. In its fulness the adjust- 
ment of the inner attitude calls for the largest 
charity, never for adverse criticism of others. We 
are to look far within, and trace all activity, selfish- 
ness, and evil to their home centre, that we may 
truly come to judgment. We are to display the 
characteristics of selfhood in bold relief, that we 
may discover the ugliness of the egoistic life, and 
by contrast the beauty of altruism. Nor is self- 
control really attained until we can thus turn the 
ingoing life into the outgoing. 

Stated in larger terms, the entire process is the 
search for freedom. Our foes are our habits. For 
a large part of our conduct we can assign no other 
reason than custom. In the Old World one is 
deeply impressed by this tendency toward repeti- 
tion and imitation, — a tendency as strongly marked 
as servitude to dogma and authority, which we have 
considered in Chapter II., — whereas in the New 
World man has dared to branch out into unexplored 
fields. We each have the old world and the new 
within : our hope lies in the possibility of throwing 
aside the thraldom of the old. Subjectivity may 
easily become a habit, but we must take care that 
it does not. We must constantly rouse ourselves, 
putting new energy into the day, into our work. 



133 

We should keep the entire field of life open, free, 
expectant, and astir. There will then be no dan- 
ger that "rut-bound" will be inscribed over our 
door. 

So far as purely subjective philosophy is con- 
cerned, the slightest reflection upon our relation- 
ships with our fellows and with Nature, convinces 
the mind that no moment of existence is really 
separated from the objective world. This fact has 
been persistently forced home to us in the discus- 
sion on character-building. The utmost our sub- 
jective self can do is to observe the intimately re- 
lated world in which it lives, and redirect ten- 
dencies which it did not originate. There is, in 
fine, no valid reason to doubt that we contemplate 
a real world rising beyond the confines of subjec- 
tive selfhood. 

But the most joyful escape from subjectivity is 
the return to Nature. There are infinite resources 
in the psychological world, there are pathways to 
the sublimest inspirations. Yet they are not to be 
compared in breadth of thought with the inspiration 
of Nature. In the library it is easy to speculate 
upon the subjectivity of matter. But sail upon the 
stormy sea, stand before a vigorous waterfall pour- 
ing its mighty forces toward you, or try to ascend 
a great snow mountain, and you are at once over- 
awed, not only by Nature's grandeur, but by the 
aggressiveness with which she makes her presence 



134 



known. Man cannot control these mighty forces : 
he can only adjust himself to them ; and adjust- 
ment through discovery of natural law is the great 
lesson of life. In the presence of such environ- 
ments the subjective life assumes its true place as 
the observer and interpreter, the mental partici- 
pant in Nature's great mechanism. The mind is 
inspired with fresh hope to co-operate with Nature, 
and attain freedom from the burdens of the inner 
world. Communion with her enlarges the life. 
It inspires confidence to come forth from the sub- 
jective shell. It everywhere invites one to enter 
the fuller experience attendant upon the free life 
which existence with her makes possible. 

The search for the soul should therefore lead to 
two important conclusions : (i) the utter narrowness 
of the self-conscious, subjective, egoistic life; and 
(2) the impossibility of finding the soul except 
through the higher life of spiritual love, service, 
and the Christ. The real way of escape is through 
the desire to live the altruistic life. Any one who 
is ready to set self aside can escape from subjec- 
tivity. Any one can be free from hampering cir- 
cumstance and sensation who will place the thought 
not on the condition, but on the ideal to be realized 
through it. 

What we find within, then, depends upon what 
we look for, — the spirit with which we enter the 
sanctuary of the inner world. It may be an im- 



135 

prisoning sensation or the Christ, the finite self or 
the infinite God. A certain amount of self-con- 
sciousness is necessary to learn discrimination, to 
find the clew to knowledge of humanity at large. 
But only the unprogressive will linger there. 
After a time one learns to think objectively, 
to take as full account of the inner world, but 
through the study of other people instead of the 
contemplation of self. 

"Exact science," says Paul Carus,* ''eliminates 
the subjective and aims at a purely objective state- 
ment of facts. He who wants to think correctly 
must leave aside the I's and me's. It is no ex- 
aggeration to say that the intrusion of self is 
always the main source of error." 

The problem of life becomes more and more 
an objectively social question. The adjustment of 
self to society, of friend with friend, in the light 
of the rich knowledge which subjectivity has 
brought us, becomes the great study ; while intro- 
spection is forced to assume its specific place. 
Henceforth the problem is, How shall man be 
persuaded to live the higher life, how can altruism 
become universal ? Evidently, each is to play his 
part by beginning at home. We are to look 
within to sow the seeds of idealism, with social 
spirituality as the end in view. We are to test 
ourselves by the high standards of love and the 

* The Open Court, May, 1897. 



136 

Christ. We are to consider more in detail what 
shall be our views on these high themes. True 
subjectivity shall thus prepare the way for the 
nobler life of service. It presents its own means 
of escape to those who penetrate far enough. It 
is a danger only to the fearful and inactive. 



VIII. 

LOVE. 

" Und was ist reine Liebe ? 
Die ihre selbst vergisst 
Und wann ist Lieb' am tiefsten? 
Wann sie am stillsten ist." 

One may well hesitate before discoursing on 
the much-abused subject of love. In general, 
the word means anything you please, except the 
beautiful affinity, the pure, quickening power and 
sentiment one would have it mean. Yet, despite 
the confusion of thought which identifies it with 
somewhat physical, and despite the ridicule heaped 
upon those who speak of the soul's love, every 
one enters its realm sooner or later ; and its 
coming is a revelation of beauty which speech 
may as well undertake to formulate as any of 
the spirit's manifestations. Indeed, no philosophy 
is complete which fails to take specific account 
of that quality without which life is not life ; and 
no idealism is adequate unless it at least suggests 
the refining of the baser passion into the bewitch- 
ingly intangible spirit of love's true life. One 
may not, it is true, define love. Forever, " sie 
redet nicht, sie liebt. " But one may perhaps 



138 

describe the conditions of its coming, although, in 
the end, speech may fail to say precisely what is 
most needed to distinguish the true love from the 
false. 

In the philosophical sense, love is the universal 
principle of affinity in nature, the beginning of 
all development. It is the inspiring, as well as 
the awakening, transforming, and liberating power 
of the world. It is not only the theme of every 
romance and of every life, but of all art and 
music. Love, or that which aspires to be love, 
has drawn all people together ; and one might 
narrate the entire history of human life in its 
terms. But it becomes more truly itself the 
higher we ascend in the scale of life. Love as 
Robert Louis Stevenson describes it,* always 
physical and capable of jealousy, is not the sort 
of which we are speaking. The love which boasts 
of its impersonality is almost as far from the 
genuine quality, "for persons are love's world." 
The deepest love is, in fact, scarcely separable 
from the heart companions whose unselfishness 
and whose love have taught us what it means. 
To know what one means by such love, you must 
yourself enter as deeply into another's life, in 
that sacred region where the wondrous beauty 
of a human soul is made known. Then you will 
know what personal love is. 

*On " Falling in Love," in his " Virginibus Puerisque." 



139 

It is well enough for metaphysical monks to 
speak of the mother's love for her children as 
the same as that which she feels for all children ; 
for he is retailing unmarried theory, not recount- 
ing the tale of real life. While we are still 
human, — and who would be so delectably imper- 
sonal ? — we are sure to love some people more 
than others. In true love the father, the mother, 
son, daughter, the brother, the sister, the friend, 
wife, husband, will ever have their specific places. 
Full love for one person ought to lead to more out- 
going love to all, but the particular must come 
before the universal. When a dying mother said 
to her son, " See me in all women," she struck the 
key-note of the true universal. When the lover 
beholds all women in his chosen one, he, too, rises 
to the normal type of love. Love is divine ; and, 
when truly seen, the person becomes the medium 
of vision from man to God. The greatest glimpse 
of the Father's tender care is seen through the 
mother's devotion. But each constituent of the 
family contributes his particular share, and we can 
ill afford to neglect even one phase of the great 
revelation. 

True love is willing to love, though there be 
no return, yet in its fulness it is a mutual or recip- 
rocal emotion, in which each recipient helps the 
other to speak and feel. "Give love, ask only 
love, and leave the rest," says Browning. We 



1/j.O 



have builded all things in co-operation, and love 
is the beautiful incentive which leads to mutual 
labor and the home. Each soul contributes or 
should contribute, and is contributed to. It may- 
be "greater to love than to be loved," but we 
are human enough to expect love in return. Yet 
love asks in return only love, and not some base 
reward ; for at its best it is ever out-going, altru- 
istic, while egoism is in-taking. True love re- 
sponds more and more when it meets true love. 
If you would receive more from another, love that 
other more. Such love is not self-sacrifice, which 
implies something negative : it is positive devotion. 
By true love I mean that which I should like to 
see manifested by all people, throughout the uni- 
verse, when they have found their true centre in 
God. It wills that at least as much should come 
to others as has come to self : it is inclusive. 
Love is steadfast, while its wavering counterfeit 
is only love in process of evolution. Love has 
an evolution, and its embryonic stages are not 
to be despised. But the love of which I chiefly 
speak is no longer passionate, though warm and 
tender. Passion is selfish, physical. Love loves, 
and is spiritual. Passion is impatient. Love en- 
dures many tests, and cheerfully waits. Passion 
simulates the true, schemes, and, when it fails, re- 
taliates. Love is sincere and forgives. Passion's 
brother, hatred, looks sharply at faults : its kins- 



141 

man, intellect, puts up barriers. But love, though 
reputed blind, truly appreciates, looks upon a fault 
only in the light of the ideal latent within, and 
melts away all obstacles and restraint. It sends 
out more of itself when others are unkind, and has 
no memory for hurts and wrongs. It is reputed 
to be " woman's whole life, " and an affair of man's 
"occasional moments"; but man also can love. 
Love is said to come but once ; but this is only in 
fullest measure, and may truly come many times. 

In its fullest sense, love individuates or chooses 
for all time: " there shall be no other." Upon 
this chosen one it bestows unquestioned trust 
and fullest confidence. It welcomes criticism, and 
gives full recognition to individuality ; for " its 
dearest bond is like in difference." In fine, it 
reaches the high level of the "Portuguese Son- 
nets " of Mrs. Browning : 

"If thou must love me, let it be for nought, 

Except for love's sake only. 

. . . Love me for love's sake, that evermore 

Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity." 
" I love thee with the breath. 

Smiles, tears, of all my life ! — 

And, if God choose, 

I shall but love thee better after death." 

True love is modest, and shyly waits for its 
fellow to speak. It does not wear its heart on 



142 

its sleeve, though it does not conceal itself from 
the keenly observant. It endures many tests. 
It is sacred between its partners. It knows noth- 
ing higher than itself, for it is the unifier of 
all that is best. It could not be jealous. To 
the last extremity, it will deny itself for its mate. 
It is neither feminine nor masculine, but unites 
the sexes. It blesses wherever it comes. With- 
out it one only half lives. When all else fails, 
it comes to the succor of the soul. It is deep, 
and comes from the heart of the soul. Just as 
modesty is its gentle hand-maiden, so respect is its 
strong elder brother. Trust is its illumined com- 
panion, and surprise the attendant upon its awaken- 
ing. We scarcely know how deeply we love until 
we overtake ourselves telling another. It is love 
that brings poise and gives centrality. It is the life 
of character, the heart of intelligent will. Intui- 
tion foresees and reports for it, wisdom is its bal- 
ance wheel. It inspires all true art, literature, 
and science, which are undertaken for her sweet 
sake. 

It is a tender flower, and must be dealt with 
gently when its young awakening comes. It is 
planted deep within the introspective soul, and is 
so sensitive that a single word will cause it to 
close. But it grows hardier with years, and the 
understanding helps it to mature. Misjudged, it 
may be neglected for years ; and a slight differ- 



143 

ence of opinion may cause it to be covered with 
a weight of harsh quarrellings. Yet, if the intel- 
lect continually clears all controversy away, it 
perennially bursts out in fresh dignity and beauty. 
It is absolutely without age, and knows neither 
space nor time. The mind sometimes tries to 
crush or enslave it ; but its true mate can seek 
it out, however cold and intense its imprisoning 
intellectualism. Many people are narrow and con- 
tracted because they have shut love out of their 
lives. Its full expression is the rounding-out of 
all that is best in humanity. 

A man's power of work is measured by the 
love he expresses. Those whose life is attuned 
to its melody, speak and write in rhythmic ac- 
cents; for there is a fine balance between feeling 
and word. It is the open door alike to poetry 
and music, — the very bone and sinew of relig- 
ion. It is the genius of the moral life and the 
befriender of the fallen. It knows neither sect 
nor dogma, but is the one spirit in which the 
devotees of all faiths may unite in brotherhood. 
It is the greatest healing power, and in youth es- 
pecially the strongest incentive to right action. 
If a boy goes to the bad, the insufficient love of 
the mother is at least one cause. Love makes 
a home of a few material possessions; and, where 
it abides, all things are sacred. 

Love begins in the realm of the ideal, and 



144 

gradually lifts all things to its level. The ideal 
cannot be too high. The ideal grows with the 
purification of the life, and one may know the 
love that is worthy of acceptance from the fact 
that it is uplifting Other sentiments and emo- 
tions may, it is true, accompany love. When 
the highest has been touched, the lowest re- 
sponds; and one runs through the whole gamut of 
sensation. But hold fast to the pure, the soul's 
love, the ideal, and true love shall triumph in 
the end. The tendency to become self-absorbed 
and abstracted may be overcome by love, for love 
instinctively longs to share its joys with another. 

In the thought process I seek to understand 
myself. In the love process I am living for 
another. Thought alone is insufficient. I must 
not only think, but act, not only act, but love. 
Intellect, the man, knows. Faith, the woman, 
sees, is. Love connects the two, and does. Our 
receptivity is measured by our love, our power 
of work by the sympathy or love we receive. 
Thought lives for science and utility, love for 
beauty and service. In the fullest life, love and 
thought go hand in hand, living for each other 
and for the world. 

Love is not, therefore, superior to knowledge 
in the sense Browning would have it,* but is 

*See Chapter VII., "Browning as a Philosophical and Religious Teacher," 
by Henry Jones, Glasgow, 1896. 



145 

the coequal of wisdom, — love guided by wisdom, 
wisdom inspired by love. In the outcome of 
life, love and knowledge, heart and head, are 
both to triumph. Our philosophy is to be 
thoroughly rational, yet reserve a place for the 
spirit. 

Love is the only relation in which one may 
truly know another. In the world men and 
women are far from one another, cold, insincere, 
and formal. Love melts away frigid convention- 
ality, and warms the heart through kindness and 
appreciation. A word of love, and one can labor 
courageously. One hardly realizes its necessity 
until the loved one departs for a season. Then 
all is dark and dismal, and the inspiration of liv- 
ing and working with another soul is at last ap- 
preciated at its true worth. Real love is thus 
seen in what it does more than in what it says. 
It reveals itself by its presence, its fellowship 
and cheer. One might almost say that its worth 
increases the less it says and the more it does. 
It asks only the privilege of loving. 

Love dwells in a region sacred to its own, 
where the frigid scrutiny of science cannot peer. 
It is more than the rational life, yet is not antag- 
onistic to reason. One cannot tell fully why one 
loves or how. Love dwells ever in the human 
world, and appeals to the heart because of its hu- 
manity; yet it owns a realm which it guards so 



146 

tenderly that its inmost secrets are never pub- 
lished abroad. When it unites two souls in full- 
est sympathy, their inner life belongs to them, 
and is not for a third to know. Its finest story 
cannot be told, and he is rendered speechless who 
tries it. 

Yet the most tenderly beautiful story that was 
ever told is the romance of love's awakening. 
Entirely unconscious at first, or beginning in 
admiration, it deepens into sacred respect, as 
though touched with the sanctity of heaven. If 
left to flower unforced and unimpeded, it buds 
and blossoms until its maturity is irresistible. 
With the woman it sometimes remains uncon- 
scious even until the man speaks, though all 
along, unwittingly, actions betray, and her face 
confesses the message of her heart. Fortunate, 
indeed, are they who can thus love and pay re- 
spect to one another, and finally voice their love 
before their elders lisp a word of what to them 
had long been evident. 

" And wilt thou have me fashion into speech 
The love I bear thee ? " 

This most beautiful experience in human life 
is naturally the hardest to describe. Mere prose 
is emphatically cold and unresponsive. Poetry 
and music, at their best, may at least suggest the 
sacred relationship. But one's own soul must be 



147 

touched to know its deep reality and transcendent 
beauty. "All the world loves a lover." It is 
also true that the genuine lover loves all the 
world. But, alas, how often the world is content 
with a counterfeit ! Many think they have found 
the reality; but, when it is truly found, one 
knows it. It is a mighty power when it comes, 
— the greatest power in the world. Those 
who know its indescribable joy, its power and 
beauty, can endure and suffer anything together. 
Oh that one might describe the joy and beauty of 
the higher love, so that every one should at least 
be aware of the ideal ! I do not mean the ro- 
mantic awakening of love, which is supposed to 
die out when the glamour fades, but the love 
which is calm and moderate from the outset, 
which does not idealize, and therefore has no 
disillusioning reaction, — that love which is as 
new, even stronger, month after month and year 
after year than during the courting and honey- 
moon. Is there a more beautiful relationship 
in human life than the tenderness and sympathy, 
the kindly devotion and happiness, of two who 
are lovers throughout their lifetime? Such love 
must endure many tests, and comes in its ful- 
ness only when the dross has been burned away. 
It requires the wisdom of two earnest souls, 
whose lives are inspired by a pure ideal, those 
who know that the instinct commonly called love 



is but the prompting of a soul which longs for 
freedom and seeks the spiritual fellowship of its 
mate. But, if more held the ideal and under- 
stood the desire, would we not oftener know of 
such love? And who would be content with the 
physical conditions of love who had once experi- 
enced the calmly sacred joy, the peace and repose 
of soul, which speak through these conditions? 

But he who would know the soul's love must 
first love unselfishly, whether in friendship or in 
marriage. Such love comes only with equality, 
with the recognition of individuality in each, and 
that noble respect which tenderly cares for the 
needs of another. Under these conditions love 
wells up spontaneously and purifies its partners. 
With it comes the peace which follows conflict, 
the restfulness of the self-respecting soul. It is 
the dawning of love's maturity, the uniting of 
heart and heaven. 

In this fulness of love, through the pure, true, 
sympathetic heart of man and woman, the divin- 
ity of divinities is seen, the heavenly Father 
himself, imbuing his children with his presence 
and binding them heart to heart with his own 
eternal essence. The higher Love is always 
seen and revered as the source of this genuine 
outpouring of the heart. This unspeakable love 
for a kindred soul is the making of both man and 
woman, the fulfilling of the highest and noblest 



149 

that is in them. Life begins anew, with a 
higher motive, a loftier impulse, a sense of the 
divine presence never known before. 

" The face of all the world is changed, I think, 
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul." 

" Nevermore 
Alone upon the threshold of my door 
Of individual life, I shall command 
The uses of my soul." 

One would no more return to the old life than 
one would cut off one's right hand. One now 
has a sympathetic soul with whom to share every 
joy and sorrow. One has some one besides vague 
society to work and live for. One knows that a 
sweet soul is always awaiting one's return. The 
intervening hours are mere filling: true life is 
the life of love when the loved one is present. 

" The widest land 
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine 
With pulses that beat double. What I do 
And what I dream include thee, as the wine 
Must taste of its own grapes." 

Thus it is the human touch first and last which 
lights up our otherwise dull account of love's life. 
True love is full love. It omits nothing, and is 
not ashamed to be warm and demonstrative. It 
lives and quickens. It refreshes and rejoices. 



150 

Its coming is the beginning of real life. Nay, 
is not life itself, in the truest sense, the welling 
up in the soul of the very being of God ? The 
whole story of life is the tale of love's wooing. 
Each of us was "loved into being." Each must 
love in return. To each also the love of God 
speaks through the liberty he gives us thus to 
evolve, through passion and selfishness, to love 
and altruism. That God might love, the world 
was made. That love's revelation might be 
complete, all laws and forms exist. Experience 
is but the tutor of love, and ever the guardian 
angel of experience. The soul knows only the 
soul at last, for love has conquered all that inter- 
venes. And in the fulness of the soul's trans- 
figuration God and man, man and man, are united 
by the bonds of immortal love. 



IX. 

THE SPIRITUAL LIFE. 

Thou art best known to the childlike, devoted, simple 
heart. — Fichte. 

It is a characteristic of the highest attainment 
in human life that we are unable fully to account 
for it. We may describe the external details and 
in a measure enumerate the factors of its excel- 
lence. But the stroke which made it a work of 
genius is not to be apprehended by the subtlest 
analysis. Nature is equally shy in regard to 
her finishing touches. Throughout the universe 
there is a vanishing point, a halo of beauty. 
One may behold it, one may feel the inspira- 
tion and know its divinity. But to expose the 
mechanism of perfect workmanship is forbidden 
both to the genius himself and to the observer. 
Yet, where the door is barred to the intellect, life 
itself will reveal the secret to each new-comer. 
Words may fail to tell what love is, but he 
knows who loves. The spiritual life is even less 
a subject for description, since poetry may be- 
come the conscious messenger of love, while the 
spirit speaks only in the language of deeds. It 



152 

lets not the left hand know what the right hand 
doeth. That is not yet true spirituality which 
talks about itself and tells what it has done. 
This is the sign by which you may know it : it is 
ever unobtrusive and quiet, spreading abroad its 
goods works and leading a life of unsparing de- 
votion. 

Still, its laws may be read in the conduct of 
those who live it; and in each of us the soul at 
once responds in its presence. If, instead of in 
some far-off heaven, we seek the spirit in the liv- 
ing world about us, every person we meet shall 
give evidence of the longing for the spiritual 
life; and among the lowliest we shall find exem- 
plifications of its characteristics. The uncon- 
scious struggle to achieve the great type is 
marked even in the faces of people in all grades 
of society. Some unvoiced longing is written 
there, — a desire for love which has never been 
met, or a great yearning for a life which shall 
truly satisfy. 

This characteristic of the spiritual life is, in 
fact, the first evidence of its awakening. The 
spirit enters wherever there is dissatisfied out- 
reaching or receptivity. It is not for us to say 
when it shall come. The highest comes to meet 
and elevate that which has evolved from below. 
Is not this the profoundest truth of existence, — 
that a higher love moves us to attain the fuller 



153 

life? If so, in our co-operation we must take ac- 
count of this unforeseen factor. "We mount to 
heaven by the stairway of surprise." There is 
ever an element of the unexpected in the spirit- 
ual life. Out of half «. dozen meditations, one 
stands out above the rest. Out of many days 
spent in search for truth, one triumphant day is 
worth more than all others. If we plan a great 
spiritual day, we are disappointed. If we try to 
describe such experiences, our words sound cold 
and prosaic. But, while we continue living and 
thinking, behold ! the divine vision comes when 
we had least expectation of its quickening pres- 
ence. For the greatest spiritual gifts come only 
when we cease personally to seek them. Self- 
assertive eagerness to attain, obstructs the spirit's 
way. But, when we cease to plan and strive, so 
far as self is concerned, the desired opportunities 
arise, the gifts of peace and love are ours. If 
the ideal is strong while we are seeking to de- 
velop physically, intellectually, and socially, the 
spiritual shall grow almost "unconscious and 
unbidden through the common. " This is the 
supreme test of spiritual faith, — to see God even 
behind evil, leading the way to higher life. 
Here is the divine unconscious, the beautiful 
unexpected, which in its own good time shall 
relieve us of our passion, and cause it to shine in 
the countenance as love. Is not this the great- 



154 

est wonder and beauty of life, — that the lowest 
is not only a type of, but actually becomes the 
highest? Yet what patience is required until 
the transmutation be complete! 

Patience, then, is essential to the spiritual 
character, the willingness to abide in the pres- 
ent, not knowing what may come when one shall 
be free. The preservation of humility is another 
requisite. "Not my will, but thine," is the 
constant prayer. Ever and again one must say, 
"What wilt thou have me to do?" What 
further spiritual possibilities lie before me? 
How can I renew and quicken my life, that I may 
realize these larger hopes? 

How shall one maintain this openness to the 
renewing life of the spirit, that spirituality may 
ever be progressive? Spontaneity, or closeness 
to Nature, is the key-note. As seen in animal 
life, it is instinct. The poet and artist draw near 
to and represent it in verse and color. Every 
one admires it in the peasant, in childhood. It is 
an unspeakable joy to find it in some measure 
preserved in later life. The peasant retains 
spontaneity, because of intimate nearness to 
Nature as opposed to the artificial life of society. 
It speaks through the honesty, the unspoiled 
hearts and simplicity of the country people of all 
nations. It speaks through the simplicity of 
Homer's verse and in the vigorous march of 



155 

the Scandinavian epic. It bursts forth in glad 
song through the jodel of the Alpine peasant, 
who seems to voice the perennial gladness of 
Nature in his joyous song. Its purest type is 
babyhood, the innocence of untaught purity and 
unadorned beauty. Is it not possible to preserve 
unspoiled by the world the simplicity which is 
the open door to Nature's higher power, so that 
neither blame nor praise, flattery nor temptation, 
shall enter the sacred precincts where God speaks 
to the soul? Yet those who in later life have 
attained harmony with this spontaneous moving 
have succeeded through mistakes, trials, failures, 
and a long struggle with self-consciousness. For 
the soul passes through three stages in its travail. 
First, the period of innocence, enthusiasm, de- 
sire, theory; second, the stage of conscious en- 
deavor, analysis, trial, during which enthusiasm 
is apparently lost; third, the plane of self-aban- 
donment, or artistic performance, when one 
emerges from the dark hour of trial, with enthu- 
siasm regained, where spontaneity speaks with 
the authority of ripened experience. 

But what is to be our guide? Just this spon- 
taneous prompting. If, for example, you have in 
mind a project which you try to realize, but can- 
not carry out, since the plan does not harmonize 
with your higher self, do not do it. There is a 
reason why it is unwise. If you are asked to 



1 5 6 

embark in an enterprise and have no moving to 
accept the proposition, decline, or await further 
guidance. When you have the right prompting, 
the project will seem in harmony with your best 
self. Whenever you are in doubt what course to 
pursue, put something in motion, then test your- 
self by this inner sentiment of right or wrong. 
All wisdom has come forth at one time or another 
from the great unconscious through its spontane- 
ous welling in some inspired soul. " Denn alles 
was da kommt ist der Wille Gottes mit ihm, und 
drum das Allerbeste was da kommen konnte. " 
What other standard do we acknowledge when 
we pause to consider? We would accept no 
revelation unless it were confirmed from within. 
But how shall we distinguish spontaneity from 
selfish impulse? By its disinterestedness. The 
spiritually spontaneous is the gospel of glad tid- 
ings. Yet I cannot describe my consciousness 
when I am thus moved, nor can you tell me what 
it is to love. Moreover, you do not wish to tell 
me. You simply say : "Live on : love will some- 
time come. When it comes, you will know the 
true from the false." If we could describe the 
most sacred side of life, our beautiful experiences 
would cease. We know not when we are accom- 
plishing the greatest good, nor when we are 
growing most rapidly. "Thou knowest not what 
argument thy life to thy neighbor's creed has 



157 

lent." In the realm of the unspeakable is that 
which makes life most worth living. Yet these 
characteristics are only inner aspects of the 
spiritual life: its real beauty is service. Spon- 
taneity at its best is the well-spring of love, or 
creative power; the recognition of its sacredness, 
through which one becomes a creative instru- 
ment. It is the discovery that every fact in life 
is holy, that the divine spirit is present there. 

From far within, in those sacred moments of 
companionship with the Infinite which makes the 
spiritual life possible, there rises a rhythmic mo- 
tion, an impulse to lift up and out, as though 
one could mount an ascending wave. To lay all 
else aside, that one may feel this quickening joy 
and move with it, this is the essential. It is 
the glad song of creation, the story of infinite 
love told ever anew, as it moves upon the spirit 
of man, and offers the rewarding joys earned 
through trust and service. 

The spiritual life has its Gethsemane, its 
lonely struggles, its hours of darkness and mo- 
ments of despair. Endlessly subtle temptations 
beset the way. The spirit is not ours until it 
has undergone severe tests. One must be will- 
ing to be persecuted, beset, and pursued. Yet 
with all this comes a peace, a restfulness like the 
calm which follows a storm. Out of the deep 
silence of the boundless realm of the spirit, the 



i 5 8 

voice of the Father speaks to bid the troubled 
soul be at peace. Our burdens almost bear us 
down, but never quite. The spiritual man is 
born anew in the heart each time the soul rises 
from the field of victory. 

Wonderfully beautiful and simple is the law, 
and plain the steps to obedience. The spiritual 
man is the man of character, the moral or ethical 
soul transfigured by the glory of the spirit. He 
is one who has seen the world, knows its tempta- 
tions, and understands its mysteries, one whose 
sympathy is so great that his heart is touched by 
the deepest compassion. He has been tried by 
fire and looked into the pits of hell, but has had 
the courage to turn away and be faithful to the 
spiritual ideal. His life is one of the utmost 
common sense. It is attained through prudence, 
reason, physical health, by purifying everything 
in life, by being helpful, faithful, true. If one 
has the real spirit, one will instinctively sim- 
plify the life, at the same time assimilating all 
that is best in the planes of development leading 
to it. One may well afford to wait in serenity 
and confidence, — the serene expectancy of the 
one who knows combined with the active individ- 
ual thought of the one who accomplishes; for 
the spiritual man is never the weak, self-forget- 
ful man, sacrificing himself, extravagantly good- 
natured, imposed upon. Nor is he unresponsive 



159 

and sad. His is the spirituality of action, yet 
the tender, loving activity of the Christ spirit, 
which carries all before it because it is love, 
the greatest power in the world, — "the high 
Thought that will never alter." 

But these are only intimations of the truly 
spiritual life, — this reliance upon the unex- 
pected, the preservation and development of 
patience, humility, and spontaneity, and the as- 
similation of common sense. They are but self- 
conscious aids to the realm where analysis is 
impossible. "Of that ineffable essence called 
spirit, he who thinks most will say least." It is 
the life alone which tells, the life which gives of 
itself and really feeds the soul. It is quickened 
within, when one listens to the spiritless hum- 
drum of the ritual, or the sermon which talks 
about, but does not convey the spirit. A great 
longing is stirred in the soul to live the life, to 
inculcate the spiritual ideal. But, when one 
essays to formulate these longings, one must con- 
fess that all is intangible. We have somewhat 
to give beyond these cold forms and words, but 
it must wait. Faithfulness to the ideal is the 
essential, the love for the spirit which adjusts 
the life in fullest harmony. Our conscious part 
is to be true to hope, to remember the laws of 
evolution and the possibilities of spiritual self- 
control. Then, if we accept our opportunities, 



i6o 



if we free ourselves from thraldom to the sub- 
jective world, through every altruistic deed the 
spirit shall speak; and the spiritual life shall be 
the natural outgrowth of all that has gone before. 

There is one problem of the spiritual life, 
however, which we have not definitely consid- 
ered; namely, the form in which the spiritual 
experience comes, and the direct evidences of 
its coming. There remains somewhat in life 
still unformulated which, aggrieved while our 
thought assumes a purely logical form, seeks its 
place in our philosophy, yet which may be sug- 
gested only by reference to feeling. One tries 
again and again to word this highest vision, that 
the intellect may take cognizance of it; yet words 
still fail. What can it be worth if it be so in- 
tangible that you cannot give a full account of 
it? asks the critic. "You would not think of 
talking that way to men, would you?" said a 
very intellectual scholar to me at the close of a 
lecture in which I had essayed to describe spirit- 
ual feelings, as much as to say that I had "de- 
scended to meet" the ladies, of whom my audi- 
ence was in large part composed, because woman 
gives such prominence to feeling. 

Is feeling so despicable a thing that one may 
not give it due place? The evidence tends 
rather to show that feeling is far richer than 
thought, and must ever be so. Reason is surely 



i6i 



the test of feeling. But what would become of 
all that we cherish most in life, were the lan- 
guage of feeling deprived of its place? I am 
inclined to think that it is feeling, and feeling 
alone, that makes us aware that we live in a real 
world, that we exist at all. Some feelings, in- 
deed, are so real that we would stake everything 
upon them, though we could not give our reasons 
therefor, — feelings in comparison with which 
metaphysical systems are stern and cold in the 
extreme. Am I not justified, then, in giving 
intuition its place as direct evidence of the 
spiritual plane? 

It surely seems logical to conclude that, if 
spirit is omnipresent, if ultimate Being is the 
immediate ground of what we actually feel as 
the world, Spirit or Being is at some point in 
intimate connection with the soul, or spiritual 
centre of activity and will, in each of us. With 
all possibilities of error taken into account, 
therefore, it would seem highly probable that we 
do actually commune at times with the living 
God, not the God of our belief, — any one may 
commune with him, — but with the God of love, 
the divine Father of each and every soul. The 
seers of all ages testify to this illumination ; and, 
while their conclusions differ, their source of 
inspiration may be the same. 

I offer five characteristics of this spiritual ex- 



l62 



perience as evidences of the existence of a higher 
realm, — not a realm of divine communion alone, 
but of spiritual vision : (i) The nature of the ex- 
perience itself. It comes when one is most re- 
ceptive, most open-minded and free, or as the 
result of ardent, outgoing desire. One not only 
feels freer mentally, but more open physically, 
as though the whole being were larger. The 
sensation is much as though one's consciousness 
suddenly expanded like a flower, until the great, 
glad, limitless universe lay in smiling repose 
beyond. One feels united with a life that is 
free, boundless, as if the consciousness were 
extended away from the body, out over the world 
to the stars and planets. The mind thus seems 
like a radiating centre, a widening out, a self- 
diffusion through the universe, as though in a 
spirit of good fellowship and love one would 
include all the world in one's heart. What pos- 
sibilities the experience suggests, what a broad- 
ening of life, what an extension of one's sphere 
of usefulness, what an enriching of feeling, of 
joy and the opportunities of imparting joy! 

(2) Another evidence is the one already noted 
in part; namely, that these experiences at their 
best come even when, judging from circum- 
stances, one would have least reason to look for 
them. Their coming is clearly matter of 
chance, from our point of view. The Spirit 



163 

comes sometimes as if in gentle rebuke, some- 
times with fresh hope, sometimes with a new 
message for one's fellow-men. And, when it 
comes, one seems lifted to the mountain top of 
life, breathing a purer air, lighter in spirit. 

(3) Another evidence of its superiority to the 
experiences we commonly know in life is that 
one cannot regulate its inspirations. Not only 
do the highest experiences come spontaneously, 
— that is, not at the time when we will their 
coming, — but one tries in vain to hold the Spirit 
that it may abide longer. It comes for a few 
moments only in its fulness, and then is gone. 

(4) Yet another evidence is that, when it 
comes, it will not remain even this short time 
unless one will to receive it. The Spirit not 
only does not coerce the soul, but the slightest 
unwillingness will send it forth again. 

(5) Finally, at times, perhaps only thrice in 
as many years, there are moments of illumination 
when the veil seems entirely drawn aside, and 
one can not only look at life in the spiritual 
light, but ask whatever one will, and receive 
answer. Time and space are of no consequence 
at such a moment; and one seems in immediate 
relation with living truth and living ideals, al- 
ready visible in the light of their outcome. For 
a moment all things seem fair, sacred, divine. 
The light of divinity touches up the universe as 



1 64 

in an ideal sunset. But, when the vision fades, 
there are the scarred cliffs and dark abysses 
again; and what can one do but view them as 
they are, yet inspired by the hope of what they 
may become? After all, the spiritual vision is 
only a foreglimpse of what is yet to be. One is 
filled with a new eagerness to live the blessed 
life, to abide forever with such beauty, love, and 
peace. Yet the higher realm may be united 
with the lower only through gradual achieve- 
ment. The mistake of many who have had the 
spiritual vision has been to disregard moral dis- 
tinctions, to regard the spiritual vision as alone 
true, while the rest was maya, or illusion. Con- 
sequently, the attempt has been to make the 
world fit the conclusions reached on the spiritual 
plane, to exalt intuition to undue prominence, 
and decry intellect. But it is the actual world 
we are concerned with. That must engage our 
thought, that must be given evidence, if possible, 
of the existence of a real spiritual world; and it 
is futile to begin by outraging the moral law and 
denying reason. I therefore take these visions 
to be of value only so far as they are rational, 
only so far as they help to solve the problems of 
practical life. We have a right, then, to de- 
mand both valid evidence and rationality. 

What is the main point at issue? The ques- 
tion has been summed up thus: "Does mystic 



i6 5 

emotion assure us of contact with a spiritual 
object? Had it not been for Hudson's book, I 
should have said 'yes' with certainty; but this 
dreadful law of hypnotic self-suggestion (which 
is true) always leaves a doubt . . . Can we 
know with certainty that we are in communion 
with God ? . . . Dr. Maudesley says that the mys- 
tic is mad. Ribot says that mysticism is a dis- 
ease. . . . For myself, I believe in mysticism. 
Can you help me to know it? " 

This summary of the question from a letter by 
an English clergyman well describes the attitude 
of many inquiring minds to-day. Can the doubt 
be answered? Hudson says:* "There is one 
insuperable obstacle in the way, which must for- 
ever prevent the construction of a conclusive 
argument, and casts a doubt upon the verity of 
the premises. ... In other words, the soul, so 
long as it inhabits the body, is never exempt 
from the operation of the law of suggestion. 
Hence it is impossible to know whether its sup- 
posed perceptions are veridical or are merely sub- 
jective hallucinations, resulting from auto-sug- 
gestion or from a suggestion imparted to it from 
some extraneous source. . . . The salient phe- 
nomena of the Yogis, . . . the impressions felt 
while in the ecstatic condition, were thought to 
be revelations of divine truth. . . . Until the 

* A Scientific Demonstration of the Future Life, p. 211. 



1 66 



law of suggestion was discovered, there was no 
other rational hypothesis which could explain 
all the phenomena. . . . These discoveries have 
changed the whole aspect of the questions in- 
volved, and relegate the vision of ecstatics to the 
category of subjective hallucinations induced by 
suggestion. "* 

Granting that, in large proportion, mystical 
experiences are illusory, it does not follow that 
they are all hallucinations. It may be true that 
physical exaltation is mistaken for spiritual il- 
lumination, that in many cases of mystic emotion 
there is nothing in consciousness which may 
rightly be said to represent anything beyond it. 
Swedenborg may have been largely mistaken 
in regard to his visions; and the Hindu Yogi 
who declares himself to be the Absolute, because 
his superconsciousness reveals this fact, may also 
be mistaken. But, admitting all this, there is 
nothing in the recent psychological discoveries 
which leads one to be entirely sceptical. If the 
law of suggestion were absolute and all spiritual 
experiences illusory, God could never act upon 
the soul. Our knowledge does not permit us to 
make this sweeping statement, assuming as it 
does that God himself is limited by the "dread- 
ful law." We should not be frightened by 
terms. Hudson's auto-suggestion is but another 

*A Scientific Demonstration of the Future Life, pp. 278, 279. 



i6y 

name for prayer. If God is present, why should 
I not be able to suggest to myself that I will 
be receptive, that I will listen for him ? And why 
may not this suggestion open the subjective door, 
so to speak, through which God may enter? Am 
I bound to believe that I have conjured up my 
own God, that he is an hallucination of my own 
consciousness, by which I am imprisoned? 

To be sure, that which becomes a part of my 
consciousness is my own feeling or thought. My 
idea of God is necessarily different from yours. 
I do not say with the Swami that "I am the Ab- 
solute." But why may not the Divine Spirit 
touch my consciousness in such manner at least 
as to set up spiritual thought or emotion ? There 
is surely no reason in the nature of things to 
prove this impossible. 

To the objection that the spiritual experience 
may be merely psychic, or clairvoyant illumina- 
tion, I reply that this indeed may be one aspect 
of it; but we have simply shifted terms. What 
caused the soul to be illumined? 

The critic may answer that some advanced 
spiritual being illumined my mind. Very well, 
I admit this possibility. I see no reason why 
we may not receive spiritual help in this way. 
But the critic, in proposing this compromise, has 
admitted that mystic emotion does come in con- 
tact with its object. If the soul communes with 



i68 



a spirit, why not with God ? Why may not the 
law of suggestion as well apply to communica- 
tions coming to us from a higher source as to the 
prayers which on our part invite them ? 

The critic objects, however, that such an ex- 
perience is of a "phenomenal " nature only: it 
is only an affair of personal consciousness, and 
not immediate contact with "noumenon," or re- 
ality. Yet this objection might be urged in 
regard to all experience. We are not sure that 
we really know the physical world as it is. We 
know only our conscious representation of it. 
We, nevertheless, believe that something real 
gives rise to our physical experience. He who 
should deny this would believe himself the ab- 
solute prisoner of his own consciousness. We 
believe, on good evidence, that our organisms 
actually come in contact with natural forces, that 
our senses report to us actual changes in Nature. 

Why, then, may we not come in contact with 
spiritual nature through the spiritual sense? 
Why may not this experience be far more direct 
and real if Spirit is both the basis of nature and 
the soul, while the soul is nearest like Spirit? 

The real touch with God may be noumenal, 
while the words in which we formulate it are the 
images of phenomena only. In fact, the most 
trustworthy seers, those who come closest to 
nature, whose experiences are most spontaneous, 



169 

declare that there is just this aspect of the 
mystic emotion, transcending what is ordinarily 
classed as phenomenal experience. We may not, 
it is true, have ideas independent of experience. 
Yet reality lying beyond experience may plausi- 
bly be conceived to give rise to ideas in ex- 
perience. 

But is there any organon, or test, of the reality 
of such experiences? There is evidently no test 
but reason, sharpened by the severest scepticism 
in regard to repeated experiences. We are un- 
able to transcend consciousness to know what this 
superconscious power may be. We know super- 
consciousness intellectually only so far as it be- 
comes conscious. But in that calm moment 
when the rush of intellectual inquiry is stilled, 
and the soul feels itself one with all Being, may 
it not be possessed of a kind of experience differ- 
ing from the conscious, of which the intellect 
shall later report only so much as becomes con- 
scious? If so, the only proof of the experience 
is the experience itself. One can propose no 
organon, or test, but that of sanity. One can only 
say, the experiences come despite all doubts. 
Hudson has not driven them away. They come 
when they will. They come with some new 
message. They insist that one shall take philo- 
sophical account of them. They are their own 
evidence; and, if one who has never had such 



170 

illuminations says they are impossible, — be- 
cause he, perchance, has not had them, — he 
has a right to his opinion; but he can speak 
only for himself. 

It is well, therefore, for the critic to consider 
the limitations of our knowledge, even in regard 
to so-called physical reality, that he may not 
make unreasonable demands. All our ideas 
originate through experience. Yet experience 
may conceivably be grounded in a reality lying 
beyond what we know as consciousness. Of this 
reality we know in general only what our organ- 
ism permits. It does not, however, follow that 
the limitations of our organism dictate terms to 
reality. To affirm this would be once more to 
go too far toward the subjective side, from whose 
illusions we have tried to escape. 

Law is objective, even the law which regulates 
our most subjective experiences. The utmost 
we can claim as purely subjective is volition, — 
the power of choosing and reacting upon the data 
of feeling and thought. But will itself, at 
least, refers to objective reality. Its activity im- 
plies and means a "beyond," which it therefore 
already possesses in part. When I will to com- 
mune with God, I mean not my own idea or 
thought, but the necessary Reality, without 
which my imperfect thought, my whole con- 
sciousness and aspiring will, would be impos- 



I/I 

sible. Unless I already possessed him in some 
degree, I should not will to commune with 
him. Unless he were immediately present in 
every moment of consciousness, I should not be 
conscious at all. 

When, therefore, I desire to commune with 
him, I suggest, or will, that my over-active con- 
sciousness shall become as quiet as possible, that 
I may give direct attention to that which, in 
some form, is always present in consciousness. 
I am never saner, more wide-awake, never under 
better command, than at this moment. 

If imaginative, I might have conjured into 
being a thousand airy shapes; and, if I believed 
psychic phenomena worthy of cultivation, I might 
in time have become a genuine, self-deceived 
psychic. Or, if naturally a mystic, I might 
easily fancy myself to be the living God. But 
I am now supposing myself thoroughly rational. 

I avoid these subtleties and illusions, and com- 
mand myself not to make suggestions. I make 
that persistent effort, or will, or suggestion, if 
you must have it so, which experience has shown 
most likely to produce receptivity in its simplest 
form. I do not know what word is coming. If 
I did, I could suggest it. (I am speaking now of 
voluntary meditation only.) I desire light where 
all is darkness, otherwise I should not render 
myself receptive. The process is quite unlike 



172 

ordinary intellection. Instead of reasoning from 
premise to conclusion, instead of seeking hypoth- 
eses, I ask, "What is?" expecting to see rather 
than to think. This method of acquiring knowl- 
edge is, in fact, like immediate, instantaneous 
touch. Am I deceived by what I see? Its ap- 
plication to life, reason, further experience, alone 
shall tell. Am I to deny it absolutely because 
the vision is not always clear? Not if I am 
rational ; for it is reasonable to believe, as long 
as the most stringent doubt fails to annihilate 
belief. I try to doubt; but there is the fact, the 
intuition, the feeling. 

Does the critic now object, as a last resort, that 
the man with a spiritually quickened nature is 
the one who believes in communion with God, 
while he in whom intellect is the more promi- 
nent characteristic doubts this fact? The ob- 
jection would be a mere begging of the question; 
for it stands to reason that he whose nature is 
best prepared to receive it will be made the ob- 
ject of the most spiritual revelation, he will know 
how to make the sanest suggestion. The argu- 
ment for divine communion, then, is at least as 
strong as the contention against it. 

As the matter stands, therefore, it is the right 
of each soul to believe in direct communion with 
God, yet the command of wisdom to use all pos- 
sible effort to avoid illusion. If the soul is in 



173 

immediate touch with God, no argument can de- 
stroy this relationship. There is nothing to fear 
from investigation : there is everything to be 
gained by closest scrutiny of our beliefs and of 
all alleged facts. Accordingly, that portion of our 
experience which is most subject to illusion should 
receive the severest examination. Try all hypoth- 
eses. Believe Hudson's law infallible if you can, 
asking yourself if all parts of your nature are 
satisfied. If not, consider the reasons for belief 
in divine communion, re-examine the above argu- 
ment, and endeavor to find the residual element 
of your spiritual experience which outlives all 
scepticism. 

There is surely a splendid field for investiga- 
tion here, always remembering that we are con- 
sidering self-consciously attained spirituality, and 
not the spontaneous life of self -forgetful service 
which we have placed in the foremost rank. The 
entire self-conscious experience is thus only intro- 
ductory to the highest spiritual plane. It is the 
requisite preparation from the finite side. It is the 
endeavor to meet science on its own ground that 
the mind may be set at rest. It is an effort to 
free one's self from all psychic encumbrances and 
side issues, that one may at last enjoy unimpeded 
union with God. 

If now, in the endeavor to avoid mere telepathic 
phenomena and psychic delusion, we ask, What is 



174 

the difference between psychic and spiritual ? we 
find the question beset by many difficulties, owing 
to the inaccurate use of words and the hypersen- 
sitiveness of those who are interested in spiritistic 
phenomena. The term " psychic "as scientifically 
employed usually means the mental factor in the 
whole course of evolution. But, as used by those 
who ask to have it distinguished from the spirit- 
ual, it applies to that plane of consciousness which 
includes clairvoyance, telepathy, clairaudience, vi- 
sions, communications real or imaginary from de 
parted spirits, and the projection of the astral 
body. 

Its proper place may perhaps be understood by 
comparing the various planes of consciousness to 
the floors of a house. On the lower floor one is 
made the percipient of physical sensation. The 
second plane is that of intellection, or definite 
thought about the other planes ; and one who has 
gone no higher than this plane usually ignores the 
existence of the higher planes. On the third floor 
one looks out into what may be called another kind 
of space. The mind seems to project itself to other 
minds, and to receive messages in return. But all 
this is still within the house of personality, and 
may be largely egoistic. Then one ascends to the 
observatory to look out on the broad life of uni- 
versal consciousness. This is the spiritual plane, 
the realm of outgoing thought and emotion of an 



i75 

essentially altruistic character. Its ruling motive — 
love — serves, in part at least, to distinguish it from 
psychic power which is so often used for hire. Its 
insights and its power fit one to live better on all 
the planes, whereas psychic experiences often unfit 
one to live a normally physical life, since they in- 
volve so much that is uncanny and morbid, — the 
dangers of mixed mental atmospheres, of commu- 
nications from unfriendly minds, and a thousand 
and one delusions. The imagination is particu- 
larly prone to play us false on this plane. If one 
chances to feel a psychic atmosphere, it is easy to 
project it into some form, give it a face, and make 
it talk, so that for every genuine experience on 
this plane there are probably a thousand which are 
wholly imaginary. 

In general, therefore, it is better to avoid all 
such experiences, and ascend to the spiritual realm. 
However valuable it may be to receive psychic 
messages, there is always the possibility of receiv- 
ing the same wisdom in a purer form from a higher 
source. It is not clairvoyant power due to psychic 
control by other personalities that we desire, but 
the development of all power in our own individ- 
uality, taking the clew from the great All-Knowl- 
edge itself. As an aid to this attainment, it is 
advisable to cultivate the powers of concentration, 
and to bear the following considerations constantly 
in mind. 



176 

Always, upon "entering the silence," it is 
necessary to know what one is seeking. If the 
eye is single to the Spirit, there is no likelihood 
that one will enter into unpleasant psychic ex- 
periences or become involved in physical sensa- 
tion, since all other channels are closed. The 
desire for the Highest is self-protective. This 
is concentration in its simplest form. If one 
can turn immediately toward the Highest, there 
is no need to pass through successive stages. 

Concentration is not a relaxation process : it 
is a process of exclusion of all thoughts but the 
chosen object of meditation. It is a combina- 
tion of activity and receptivity. It is exempli- 
fied by every well-directed effort in life. The 
best way to acquire it, therefore, is through our 
ordinary occupations; for the kind of self-control 
one wishes to obtain is that which one can com- 
mand under all conditions. Those who practise 
artificial methods are apt to be bound by them. 
They seem unable to concentrate unless the crys- 
tal be at hand, or only at a certain time and 
under precise conditions. In those, too, who 
have long contemplated according to Hindoo 
methods, one detects a forced self-restraint and 
over-serious, inactive, if not morbid, tendency. 
The "remedy is worse than the disease," unless 
it develop that form of optimistic spirituality 
which one can realize among the lowliest of 



177 

one's fellows and in the home life. If I am to 
commune with a warm and loving God, I must 
be warm and loving, avoiding deadened stoicism 
as well as cold speculation, egoistic indifference, 
and self-hallucination. 

Thus broadly considered, concentration is a 
universal law, — the gathering of forces at a 
point, the involution which precedes evolution. 
Psychologically, it is based on the act of atten- 
tion. We pay attention where we are inter- 
ested; and, if we are not sufficiently interested, 
the mind wanders. Any act may be made a 
lesson in concentration by placing the mind fully 
upon it. If the thought wanders away, bring it 
back, and focus it once more upon the chosen 
idea, and continue this process day by day until 
concentration becomes a habit. Those who 
become masters of any art or trade acquire great 
powers of concentration almost without knowing 
it. Any persistent intellectual pursuit accom- 
plishes the same end. To acquire a language, 
for example, one must think; and the training 
of the powers of thought is but another name for 
concentration. Systematic intellectual study is 
therefore strongly recommended to those who 
would learn fullest self-control. Particularly is 
it advisable to develop one's individual ideas 
systematically, since the effort puts the individ- 
ual himself in self-command. It clears the 



i 7 8 

brain, and is beneficial physically. It also helps 
one to overcome the habit of dreaming. 

Intellectual self-control thus becomes the 
basis of greater quiet of mind, and prepares the 
way for healthy spiritual meditation, which is 
simply persistent thought upon some high 
theme. It is advisable to put one's self in a 
comfortable physical attitude, and it is of course 
easier to meditate in a quiet environment. But, 
if sights and sounds intrude, learn to see and 
hear without being inwardly disturbed, and thus 
learn superiority to intruding circumstances. If 
concentration is at first difficult, let the mind 
think for a while as it will. Do not force your- 
self to be still, for some part of you will rebel. 
Do not make the mind a blank, but, as it be- 
comes calmer, give it conscious direction by 
centering it upon a single idea. Or picture a 
peaceful scene in nature, and enter into the 
spirit of its calmness. 

As an aid to this latter process, it is helpful, 
when away from home, to return in thought, and 
try to visualize familiar surroundings : look men- 
tally at the faces of the dear ones there, see the 
pictures upon the wall, or try to locate the books 
on the bookcase. This experiment not only 
helps one to become more observing, but gives 
greater command of thought. The mental pict- 
ure furnishes material for the imagination; and 



179 

the definite thought gives play to the intellect, 
leaving the higher nature opportunity to enter 
into the spirit of the meditation. Then, too, 
the ability to send the thought elsewhere and 
visualize other surroundings is of inestimable 
value when pain and trouble come. 

But do not merely look within. Do not look 
down : look up and out, thankfully, joyfully, 
expansively. All other meditation is in part 
harmful. Do not examine self and sensation 
alone. Look beyond all this to the ideal. 
Aspire calmly, moderately. Do not make ner- 
vous affirmations, but quietly recognise the high- 
est truth and ideal of life. Become more objec- 
tive by opening out from within, and freeing the 
unexpressed self. Think actively for a time, 
then listen expectantly that you may receive. 
Or, in other words, first become the observer, 
then take hold of yourself, gather in the scattered 
forces, and direct them toward the chosen ideal. 
Think about your problem for a time : then dis- 
miss it, and let it think itself. If your medita- 
tion has been successful, it will leave you re- 
freshed and calm. If you fall asleep, it is 
probably because you need rest or because you 
were too passive and not intellectually awake. 
If you feel constrained and tense, it is because 
you have held yourself tightly. It is better to 
move occasionally and relax than to concentrate 



i8o 



long in one position. Concentration at its best 
is a comfortable attitude of calm, restful self- 
command. It ought to be acquired naturally, 
gradually, and happily. Thus attained, it be- 
comes a part of one's very life, enriching and 
enlarging it a thousand-fold. 



X. 

THE CHRIST. 

Jesus was true to what is in you and me. — Emerson. 

What think ye of the Christ? This is natu- 
rally the crucial question proposed, in our West- 
ern world, to the writer who undertakes to incul- 
cate a philosophy of hope. For is not Jesus the 
hope of that world ? Does not salvation depend 
upon belief in him? 

The answer to this question is in part implied 
in the preceding pages. Hence it is needless to 
undertake a complete refutation of the orthodox 
position. The point of view maintained through- 
out is that of the independent truth-seeker, out- 
side of all sects, yet in sympathy with the truth 
in them all and tolerant of all differences in 
terms. It is the point of view of one who would 
above all else know and be true to the simplicity 
of the Christ, purified from the dogmatic encrus- 
tations of ages, of one who would tell what the 
Christ means for him, and who would be as free 
from preconception as one reared outside of the 
Christian faith. 

Since the genuine truth-seeker searches for 



182 



eternal principles and has no historical or eccle- 
siastical traditions to defend, he need not be con- 
cerned with the vexed questions of the authorship 
and date of the Gospels, the variations in the 
texts and the like; nor need he discuss the 
troublesome problem of the Fourth Gospel. 
Suffice it that the Christ ideal exists, and that it 
attained a wonderful exemplification in the his- 
torical Jesus. This much admitted, we may de- 
rive such help from the recorded sayings of Jesus 
as shall throw light upon the universal ideal. 
For the Christ is not to be accepted because of 
historical authority, and not because Christians 
have so long believed their religion to be the 
highest, but for what we find it worth as a uni- 
versal principle. 

The Christ-life, if developed from within, in- 
dependently of Jesus' teaching, has as much 
authority as the Church could give it. One may 
experience the agony of Gethsemane who has 
never heard of Jesus. The principle is universal, 
or it is not true. Particular illustrations of it 
can at best point out only the grandeur and worth 
of the eternal law. 

Yet much is still to be accomplished in the 
understanding of Jesus' sayings. The theolo- 
gians have hypnotized people to see just their in- 
terpretation, so that it is almost impossible for 
the average man to read precisely what is written. 



i8 3 

Certain students of the new or higher criticism 
have done much to take from Jesus' character 
all that makes it dear. The living spirit con- 
ceals itself from all who approach it with the 
sharp weapons of criticism. 

Again, the reaction from orthodoxy has gone 
to great excess until one hears many irreverent 
and depreciating comments upon Jesus' life. It 
is customary among certain exponents of Oriental 
philosophy to speak as though they had long ago 
outstripped Jesus, and could tell all about him; 
while the self-complacency with which many 
disciples of the New Thought expound the Christ- 
life causes one to tremble for an age which 
has so little of the profoundly religious spirit. 
With these and with the other commentaries on 
the life of Jesus we shall have nothing to do. 
Enough has been said and written on this score 
to last through all the centuries. The inmost 
spirit of the Christ is to engage us, the simplic- 
ity and beauty of a thoroughly sincere soul. 
Knowledge of this comes only to those who in 
the same spirit are faithfully and reverently 
Christ-like. 

First, then, the life of Jesus can have no uni- 
versal meaning unless it be regarded from the 
human point of view. If his life be deemed 
sinless or supernatural, there is nothing further 
to be said. Dogmatically assume that he was 



perfect, and you must harmonize everything he 
said and did in the light of the arbitrary standard 
thus raised. But free him from this weight of 
deification and exalt him to the level of true 
manhood, and even the imperfect record of his 
life becomes aglow with genuinely human inci- 
dents. The human Jesus seems to come to one 
almost appealingly, because of the great injustice 
done him. Despite the marvellous power for 
good his influence has had in the world, the chief 
glory of his life is lost for all who thus put him 
in a category by himself. He seems to reach out 
in earnestness and love, with the hope that at 
last his true life may be known. No genuine 
soul likes to be idolized. Every soul knows in 
its sincere heart that it is human. Its wisdom 
has been learned through mistakes, failures, and 
sins. It is instructive as an example to others 
because it has triumphed over these, and would 
share its knowledge with its fellows. 

So with Jesus. His greatness unquestionably 
lies in what he overcame. He stands where he 
does to-day because he took the supreme oppor- 
tunity of human life. His life is to be justly 
apprehended only when seen in the light of its im- 
perfections, when considered as a progress which 
would have been impossible, had he been perfect 
from the outset. Its transcendent beauty is due 
to its distinctively human side, its divinity to 



i*5 

the fact that, as a man, he overcame more, thus 
becoming more receptive to the Father. Its 
greatest lesson is the possibility opened to the 
entire race, as the first of a type some time to be- 
come universal, the beginning at a centre of a 
new phase of evolution, the exemplification of 
principles which are to perfect mankind, not 
through belief in Jesus as a saviour, but through 
the personal effort of each to be true to the wis- 
dom he taught. 

Throughout this discussion we are distinguish- 
ing the man Jesus from the Christ, or ideally 
spiritual life, which may have other incarna- 
tions, and may become the universal ideal of hu- 
manity. We still employ the term Christ, or 
"the anointed one," because of its wonderful sug- 
gestiveness. We mean by it the highest attain- 
ment open to the human soul ; namely, complete 
realization of the law of love, that love which in- 
cludes all humanity in its charitable and forgiv- 
ing heart, a love so deep that it will endure any 
sacrifice for its own. It is an ideal to be at- 
tained only through natural law and evolution, 
where the human part of us is active throughout, 
where, as in Jesus' case, the man begs to have 
the cup taken from him, and even cries out that 
he is forsaken. Is it not this essentially human 
touch that draws the heart so close to Jesus, and 
makes us love both him and his great ideal? 



i86 



Viewed in the light of evolution, therefore, the 
Christ-life is seen to conform to the laws of 
growth exemplified throughout the kingdoms of 
nature. It is the third or artistic plane of 
human achievement, the stage of full self-aban- 
donment. It is Nature attaining her highest 
level. It is the universe realizing its full justi- 
fication for being. It is the finishing touch of 
the rounded life each of us is striving to realize. 
It is the love of the perfect, the leaven of a 
higher power sown in the lowest that is in us, 
and destined to lift all things to its level. It 
is the ultimate meaning and beauty of life, the 
glory of divinity made flesh as . the supreme 
accomplishment of creative power. 

Naturally, that which is to be of such conse- 
quence must have the longest evolution. Yet 
Jesus, as well as his parents, must have begun 
life at a high level. A life which was to be 
a supreme triumph must also have been beset 
with unusually trying experiences, unusual temp- 
tations and conflicts. Jewish religious life in 
the past undoubtedly made possible the great 
receptivity of the mother, and the Jewish law be- 
came the- early schoolmaster of Jesus. Then 
came, in a happy hour, the vision of the higher 
law ; and Jesus had the courage to choose it as 
his rule of life. With the choice there were 
aroused into opposition all the rebellious forces 



i8 7 

of the world, and these have been rampant ever 
since. 

The history of the Christ power in its struggle 
with the world is repeated in the life of each in- 
dividual who becomes conscious of the same as- 
piration. One who chooses the ideal must meet 
every possible test. The Herod in us will try to 
steal away the Christ. Judas will come forward 
to betray, and Peter to deny. One must face not 
only the enticements of society, those who pro- 
fess friendship and flatter, those who criticise, 
persecute, and betray, but everything that makes 
one obstinate, sensuous, and selfish. Infinite 
patience is required to walk in the straight 
and narrow way, and one may hope to become 
Christ-like only by gradually winning the right 
through repeated victory. The essential is to 
desire the Christ above all else. One's trust 
must be perfect. Without plans, without know- 
ing what may come nor how one's needs may be 
provided for, in all humility and readiness, one 
must be true to the present prompting, while 
holding in mind the great ideal. The true 
Christ will then be born again with each re- 
newal of the ideal, with each receptive aspira- 
tion. We may help every one who is drawn to 
us for sympathy by seeing the Christ in all men, 
by charitably regarding all failures and sins as 
efforts to actualize the type. We are not to be 



i88 



helpful by affirming that we are the Christ now, 
nor by condemning men because they fail when 
judged by this high standard, but because there 
is that within which aspires to become the Christ, 
by concerning ourselves with the next step in 
evolution. 

But one cannot enumerate all the stages of 
this transcendent evolution. If one has the 
clew, — namely, the spiritual simplicity which 
Jesus' life exemplifies, the desire for the Christ, 
— the New Testament record will then reveal 
its treasure of spiritual wisdom. Moreover, each 
must work out the problem in an individual way. 
Each is to find the Christ within through pro- 
foundest understanding of self, and then make it 
the leading factor in daily life. No one can be 
a guide here. No one can take the place of in- 
dividual thought and effort. The trouble in the 
past has been that men accepted guides and inter- 
pretations instead of learning at home. 

But one may venture to suggest that the Christ- 
life shall be a life of joy and thanksgiving. If 
one has put off the dogmatic Christ and discovered 
the universal spirit, the life will reveal the glad 
tidings ; and the hyper-serious face of the passing 
religious generation will give way to the radiance 
of spiritual optimism. 

Is it rank heresy to suggest the possibility of 
a fuller realization of the Christ ideal than that 



attained by Jesus? Jesus was the one who 
realized it in single life. It is easy in single 
life to do that which is difficult after marriage. 
What, then, of the cares and the trials, the 
tests and triumphs, of the man of practical 
affairs, who must earn his daily bread, provide 
shelter for his family, and educate his chil- 
dren? Is there a higher possibility in the home 
where two souls are united in the Christ- 
spirit — heaven's marriage — with the glorious 
opportunity of realizing the ideal together, of 
helping humanity by bringing Christ children 
into the world? This must follow, if the Christ- 
life is as much for woman as for man. Surely, 
no truly human philosophy, no genuine altruism, 
could exclude woman, nor any of the functions of 
woman. The Christ-life exalts to the highest 
level all that is tenderest, purest, and most char- 
acteristic in woman. The Christ-life is, in a 
sense, the dawning of the divinely feminine in 
man. It opens the way for him to become truly 
one with woman. May not woman's love in turn 
open the way for man to attain the fullest love 
for humanity? Is she not by nature capable of 
contributing the supreme example of self-sacri- 
fice? 

In the Christ world there may be both giving 
and taking in marriage. There will be no un- 
pardonable sin in that world. There will be no 



190 

bitter denunciations. It will reveal the results 
of the ages of evolution since Jesus' time. Per- 
haps the fuller life will show that Jesus made 
serious mistakes. At any rate, one must leave 
room for the possibility of greater attainments 
than those made by the prophet of the Christ- 
life, although to him must ever belong the glory 
of being the first to enunciate the law, to give 
shape to the ideals and spiritual evolution which 
reached their highest expression in his life. 

But what words can do justice to the beauty 
and dignity, the wealth and simplicity, of the 
Christ ideal ? In rare moments of enlightenment 
one intuitively feels its transcendent power. 
The records of heroism and self-sacrifice of the 
ages help to formulate the type. All about in 
daily life one witnesses sublime examples of self- 
sacrifice and devotion, of willing faithful service, 
of unselfish love. The tenderness of fatherhood 
and motherhood, at their best, is a type of the 
fatherly solicitude of Jesus; and one sometimes 
witnesses afresh that most beautiful scene where 
Jesus blesses the children. The earnestness of 
orthodox believers is at heart the sincere Christ 
love. It is mistaken rather in belief and method 
than in spirit. Although the church so often 
does precisely what Jesus told people not to do, 
one must admit that a profound spirit of worship 
is found there. The Christ is in the world, 



I9i 

though probably not embodied as it was in Jesus. 
The mouth is silenced that would criticise the 
untold thousands who are doing the best they 
know to be true to their Lord. It is only be- 
cause one believes there is a higher ideal that 
one can venture thus audaciously to speak of the 
subject so dear to the hearts of our Christian 
world, because the world shall know the true 
Christ only when it is freed from dogma, when 
it finds the Christ spirit within. 

It is a grandly simple ideal, — this higher law 
which the gentlest, kindest, and most faithful 
man enunciated. He believed first of all in a 
Spirit whose wisdom has provided for all needs, 
so that we need not anticipate nor be anxious, 
only seek receptivity in that kingdom within, 
where this Being is so near that we may call it 
Father. The inner is therefore the real, the 
cause: the outer is its manifestation or effect. 
No man by being anxious can change the effect. 
Yet the outer world is the precise reproduction of 
the inner, returning to us what we sow, depend- 
ing upon ourselves, — our faith, judgment, and 
love. 

The manifestations of the Father are therefore 
according to law. Imperfections result from 
failure to move with the Father's outgoing life. 
Even sickness is a sin. It is our personal 
"missing of the mark," or failure to realize the 



192 

Christ ideal. There is no exception to the law. 
There is no partiality. No man can serve both 
the Father and himself. He must fully love the 
Father, must wholly conquer self, either to be 
free from misery or attain the perfect life. Love 
is thus the fulfilling of every law, and the sov- 
ereign remedy for pain, disease, sin, sorrow, and 
death. Love is the key-note of the divine har- 
mony. To feel that love within is to attain the 
highest subjective level. To express it to our 
neighbor and even to our enemy is the greatest 
attainment in external life. This it is to do the 
Father's will. This it is to know the Father. 
This it is to be worthy of our sonship and our 
brotherhood. The way is plain for all who care 
to walk in it. There is no need of theological 
complications. There is no need of ritualism 
and formality. The law is unmistakable; the 
result, assured and clear. It remains but to do 
and live, to trust and love. All things shall be 
possible to him who thus faithfully works and 
loves. The greatest joys of service shall be his, 
the greatest power of accomplishment and of 
command over nature's forces. The sick shall 
be healed. The dead in the old law shall be 
raised. One shall have the rare privilege of 
quickening the Christ in humanity at large. 
Supreme agony may come, also the worst temp- 
tations and trials. But with the transcendent 



193 

glory of untrammelled communion with the 
Father shall come the peace of perfected love 
and companionship. 

Such is the law, — -simple, clear, and all-inclu- 
sive. The Christ ideal is a life, not a theory; 
a world of deeds, and not of spiritless words. 
As inculcated by Jesus, it may have been in part 
impractical, tinged by the limitations of the Jew- 
ish temperament, and involving disappointed 
hopes in regard to the coming of the kingdom. 
-But the principle is there. Its solution of the 
mystery of life is unmistakable, its power in the 
world of unprecedented worth. Jesus may have 
been only a representative man, as was Caesar, 
Shakspere, or Kant. The martyrdom of Socrates 
may deserve to rank with his, while Kant's ethi- 
cal teaching may have attained a higher level than 
the ethics of the Golden Rule. Our inherited love 
for him may still be so strong that we cannot 
eliminate all deification, and see him as he truly 
is. But, however this may be, in unprejudiced 
moments a distinct personality stands out in* the 
New Testament record, a soul without guile, a 
gentle spirit, a helpful elder brother, whose com- 
passionate, appealing face reads the inmost long- 
ing of the heart, and meets it with full response. 

Oh, the marvellous beauty and sweetness of 
that noble life! It seems a sacrilege to speak of 
him except in terms of utmost reverence and 



194 

love. Who shall criticise? Who shall even 
understand until he shall have lived the Christ? 
Jesus' apparent mistakes may be due to the im- 
perfections of the record and to the stories of 
supernaturalism and miracle circulated after his 
death. He may have been far wiser than he 
spoke, but have had no worthy listener. But, if 
he could speak to us now, would he not plead for 
a common-sense interpretation of his life? would 
he not urge us to be his disciples by following 
his example, not as a god, but as a human being 
whose life involves the same struggles and prin- 
ciples as our own ? If so, here is the true Jesus, 
— 'the one who self-consciously attained the type, 
the simple man, the earnest soul, the one who 
above all others proved his doctrine by living it. 
If we can come to no other definite conclusion 
concerning him, this much appeals alike to rea- 
son and to our humanity. And this much agreed 
upon, we may accept the Christ with all the 
enthusiasm Orthodoxy itself could summon. 

The Christ, then, is a possibility open to every 
human soul ; and, as such, we must give it place 
in our philosophy of hope. Yet, in so doing, we 
must, as lovers of universal truth, include all 
phases of life. Life's problem is to be solved, 
we concluded in Chapter I., by fullest personal ex- 
perience, — not through theory, but by actual life. 
But this is not all. The ultimate test of experi- 



195 

ence is reason ; and he shall know the truth at 
last who not only has lived, but comprehends, 
he who masters the intellectual development of 
the ages. The universal man, therefore, puts 
himself in harmony not only with the world of 
nature, of social and spiritual life, not alone 
with the marvellous development in Palestine, 
but also with the culture for which the other 
great nations stand. The Christ-life is the clew 
to the fuller wisdom all our scholars are seeking. 
The time may then come when, after all these 
ages of intellectual growth, a more highly de- 
veloped Christ shall appear. 

Thus conceived, the Christ is the hope of the 
scholar as truly as of the solitary or sinful soul. 
For we are considering an attitude toward life 
which has outgrown all particular attainments 
and become the universal type. As such, it is 
entirely unselfish love, — love for humanity, for 
art, science, the world at large. It is entire 
sympathy of self with the universe. It is the 
ideal manhood for any and all occupations, the 
harmony of the universe individually attained. 
It is the mature spiritual man as opposed to the 
spiritual childhood of the race. It is the full 
triumph for every human being over ignorance 
and evil, without which the universe cannot be 
said to be truly worthy of the Christ. It com- 
mands because it understands. It is the master 



196 

of possibility because it loves. It is man made 
perfect in God. It is God made complete 
through man. It is the glory of the universe, 
the heart which makes all things one. It is the 
peace of perfected labor, the joy of the immortal 
soul. Out of the bosom of the infinite it comes 
to the motherhood of men. Out of man's su- 
preme act of devotion it rises transfigured to 
God. Peace, be still ! Be of good cheer, and be 
comforted. The Christ is the hope of the 
world 



XL 

THE PROGRESSING GOD. 

The most exact calculator has no prescience that some- 
what incalculable may not balk the very next moment. 
Emerson. 

Let us now summarize the steps by which we 
have reached the conclusions of the foregoing 
chapter. That the universe is in some sense a 
harmony is clear from the fact that it continuously 
exists as a law-governed system. What that ulti- 
mate harmony is, human experience and thought 
are not yet sufficiently comprehensive to reveal. 
It may be undivided Spirit, or it may be a complex 
of individuals, ultimately distinct. It may be in 
the minutest sense a harmony, or harmonious only 
because the universe owns a balance of good over 
evil. On this point, omniscience alone could en- 
lighten us. 

Yet, although we cannot know positively that 
there is not an ultimate struggle going on in the 
universe, the evidences of design are such as to 
lead to the conviction that all apparent conflict is 
a part of the central purpose, which may therefore 
rationally be deemed the true basis of unity. The 



198 

aspirations of men also point to this conclusion, 
— faith in the moral law and the existence of 
spiritual ideal, the potential supremacy of the 
good. Moreover, since all phenomena imply a 
reality, and all life, laws, and tendencies must have 
an ultimate ground, the conception of God arises 
as the sufficient, harmonious, and unitary basis of 
the total universe. The mind, therefore, seems 
entirely justified in assuming that in some way the 
world was built in beauty, is evolved through pur- 
posive order, and is so to continue that harmony 
shall eternally prevail. 

This reasoning, however, applies only to life's 
ultimate ground and to the sphere of the ideal. 
Harmony may be said in a general way to reign 
in Nature, but in the human world it is far from 
being either individual or universal ; and our chief 
concern, after all, is with the actual world, with the 
endeavor to make the ideal real. Suffering, strife, 
and evil should therefore be recognized for what 
they are in respect to moral and spiritual stand- 
ards, and not denied because, forsooth, the uni- 
verse is, philosophically speaking, a harmonious 
world-order. 

Acute analysis shows the real cause of inhar- 
mony to be in the mind of man. Generally speak- 
ing, man is ignorant of the forces that play upon 
him, unaware of the nature and purpose of his 
real self, consequently a sufferer from the results of 



199 

his own acts. The problem of life is thus found 
to be a matter of individual solution, of personal re- 
sponsibility ; and freedom from trouble must come 
through the discovery of our ignorance. Our in- 
harmonies are reducible to selfishness in various 
forms, — to lack of adjustment to the harmonies or 
forces of nature, to unconsciousness, to sin against 
the moral law, and to unawareness of omnipres- 
ent spiritual guidance. The remedy is to under- 
stand all these relationships, to escape from undue 
subjectivity, from bondage to convention and 
dogma, from pessimism, disease, and wrong-doing* 
by means of all-round development through physi- 
cal, intellectual, moral, and spiritual harmony, 
through the transmutation of passion, the develop- 
ment of individuality, character-building, the culti- 
vation of the outgoing spirit, optimism, hope, love 
of the beautiful, the contemplation of nature, al- 
truism, the spiritual life, love, and through the 
attainment of full self-control, the preservation or 
renewing of spontaneity, the full dedication of self 
to God. The attainment of this rounded harmony 
shall lead to complete knowledge of life. For ex- 
perience is the price of knowledge ; and he shall 
fully know who fully lives, who truly is, who nobly 
does. 

Such a man is the perfect Christ, he whose total 
life is in harmony with the beauty, law, will, con- 
stitution, of the universe. He is not God. He is 



200 



not omniscient. He is not supernatural. On the 
contrary, he is, at the utmost, only an individuation 
of God, an incarnation of love, the product of God 
working through natural evolution. There may 
be innumerable Christ-men, all equally great, all 
individually different. Each may in his special 
sphere be in harmonious relation with the universe. 
Yet each may be mutually supplementary ; while 
all, taken together, may constitute the Christ repub- 
lic of God. God alone can experience, and there- 
fore know, universal harmony. God can become 
fully manifested or complete only through the 
separate individual incarnation and perfection of 
each soul as the Christ. Jesus attained that 
which must become common to all mankind, to 
give place, it may be, to yet greater attainment, 
when the soul shall look upward from the Christ 
level to greater heights beyond. 

Thus endless progress is the message proclaimed 
by the strongest voice of hope. The universe is a 
hopeful world-order just because its apparent per- 
manence may be but "a word of degrees." All 
our customs may vanish, all our creeds be changed. 
The time may come when, in the words of Francis 
E. Abbot, we shall look upon Christianity and all 
other present religions as "superstitions of the 
past " ; for, when the truth of religion is freed 
from dogma and formalism, it may seem entirely 
new. Man dares not question these "sacred mys- 



201 



teries" now. He cares more for the soft light of 
haziness than for the full glare of day. But the 
clear, cool wind of science is blowing from the 
westward. We are destined to view the splendors 
of Alpine distinctness of thought ; and woe be to 
him who in that day shall try to take refuge in the 
vales of conservatism, dogma, and despair! As 
surely as one's horizon is enlarged from a moun- 
tain summit, so surely shall the petty theories of 
to-day prove puerile in the broader vision of man- 
hood's thought. 

We grovel in the depths of subjective caves. 
We live in the imprisoning structures which our 
own hands have erected. We boast of our wisdom 
and smile with pride at our spirituality. Yet much 
of it is the wisdom of uncritical belief and the 
spirituality of self-complacent egotism. Our pros- 
pects are limitless. The universe is at our service, 
and we have naught unconquerable to fear. But 
we have only begun to live and think, only begun 
to hope and dream. The majority of men live in 
almost incredible mental servitude. The few who 
think, scarcely dare to say that which may prove 
unpopular, or gainsay the cherished religious con- 
victions of the race. Still, the time must come 
when men shall have true courage, when even 
Jesus' life shall be assigned to its true place. 
Then there shall be a fearful crashing and falling 
of tradition, until the conception of God shall be 



202 



the last idea to stand. But that even this idea 
shall be still more seriously questioned, at once be- 
comes evident, if we try to fit the old ideas of a 
fixedly perfect Creator, or fate-imprisoned Abso- 
lute, upon the progressive universe of the larger 
hope, the universe of evolution. The two prove 
mismated, and only the omnipresent God of evolu- 
tion shall remain. 

The mind turns back, awed and silent, at the 
suggestion of a Being of sufficient power and wis- 
dom to be the basis of life's ultimate harmony, the 
energy behind and within all evolution, and the 
love embodied in the Christ. Far be it from me 
to attempt a definition. The task is rendered 
far more difficult than ever by the addition of the 
great hope suggested above, the possibilities of 
progress, and the universal Christ. The endeavor 
to define God has been made times enough, and 
always with the same result, — man's nature and 
thought enlarged to fit God. If I should describe 
him solely in terms of progress, I should do injus- 
tice to some other aspect of the divine nature. 
All I will venture to say, as the logical conclusion 
to the argument of this book, is that a progressive 
universe, one which owns possibilities, and is not 
fixed, but fluid, points to the existence of a God 
who moves forward with his universe. This must 
be true of him in one aspect, at least, since we 
find progressive change in the actual universe. 



203 

If ultimate Being were a fixed Absolute or 
eternally perfect All-hood, that Being, or God, 
would be fettered by his own unalterable nature, 
the dupe of the fate he himself had by some im- 
possibility chosen, the dreary tool of his own mo- 
notonous mechanism. There would then be no 
reason for the existence of a universe. There 
would, in reality, be no real universe, only an 
illusory one such as the Vedanta conceives. 

On the other hand, the possession of possibility, 
the ability to give rise to novelty and to create in- 
dividuals, — each of whom may lead a new life, — ■ 
the power of self-mutation through progress, would 
alone seem sufficient reason either for deeming 
God omnipotent or conceiving him as the ultimate 
ground of life. 

The presence of chance would not imply weak- 
ness, but strength, on the part of God ; for we 
know of no other God to come in and play a trick 
upon him through this loop-hole of chance. There 
may still be unruly members in the republic of 
God ; but we have no reason for saying that they 
are always to be unruly, that they may not some- 
time choose the moral ideal. And would such a 
God have any less hope than we? Rather say 
that his hope is infinite, and that in his all-patience 
he is willing to wait, hoping that all may choose 
the moral opportunities he puts before them, that 
all may prefer to become the Christ. 



204 

Instead of Leibniz's theory of pre-established 
harmony, instead of the motto, " Everything is for 
the best in the best of possible words," we there- 
fore have the idea of progressively realized har- 
mony. Everything is making for the best in the 
best of possible worlds ; namely, the world where 
opportunities are infinite, where hope is young, 
and the Christ our future ideal. 

" Why, then, should not reality be considered or 
analyzed by philosophy as what it proves itself to 
be ? If evolution be rational, reality must be what 
it proves itself to be." * 

Does not this conception of a moving, progress- 
ing God, who may sometime add to his universe, 
enjoying possibilities, expecting novelty, with a 
free, hopeful love, accord with what we know of 
our life and the soul ? Have we any valid reason, 
judging from life as we witness it to-day, for posit- 
ing the existence of a fixed Absolute ? Rather, our 
thought would seem to lead us from the thought 
of a morally potential and progressing universe to 
the conception of a Being only potentially abso- 
lute, at least one whose ideal for us may indeed 
be perfection itself, but who is dependent upon us 
to choose that perfection, and thus make him ab- 
solute or perfect through moral progress, through 
the attainment of the Christ. Or, possibly, God's 

♦William Caldwell, "The Philosophy of the Activity-experience," In- 
ternational Journal of Ethics, July, 1898. 



205 

ideal itself may be modified or enlarged by the con- 
tributions of his society of souls. If so, why may 
not the possibility be infinite, so that improve- 
ment itself shall be endlessly improved upon ? In 
that case, perfection, like absolute truth, may be 
endlessly striven for, yet possibly never attained, 
since every advancing tide of achievement shall, 
without ceasing, bring its contributing share, only 
to give place to a greater possibility coming from 
the fresh life beyond. Only so would the fresh 
life of the universe seem ever to be assured. 
Only so would fatalism seem to be avoided, that 
dismal time when all movement should become a 
habit, all life the prisoner of mechanism. Only so 
would the life of God seem to possess continuous 
joy, only so would he seem to be eternally glad 
that he had called us into the world. 

Is this a startling idea, — the thought of a pro- 
gressing God ? Does it imply that God is de- 
pendent on man ? If so, logic is surely on our 
side ; for we are conceiving of a God who shall be 
the source of life as we actually find it. There is 
no valid reason for affirming more than this. And, 
in actual life, do we not find progress, novelty, 
chance, the moral law, and distinct finite individ- 
uals ? Unless God is dependent on us, why 
should we exist at all ? If finite moral individuals 
are of worth, — and life has no meaning unless 
they are, — then, surely, God is dependent, he 



206 



lives, acts, even suffers with us ; and the old idea 
of a fixedly perfect God, unaware of our struggles, 
is proved illogical. 

It might seem more plausible to say that laws 
and ideals only are permanent, the moral law and 
the Christ ideal ; while ever new possibilities give 
perennially fresh expression to the archetypes, the 
central law of unity amid variety ever revealed 
anew. The joy of life to the infinite, the oppor- 
tunity for life to the finite, would then be ever- 
changing exemplification of the type. For what 
could be more beautiful, more perfect, than the 
laws and ideals already known, the universal 
Christ ideal of which we are now speaking ? Yet 
our first form of statement seems the broader. If 
these ideals do not change, others, at least, may 
appear, thus rendering life essentially new. We 
have thus secured for our universe a boundless 
horizon of possibility, an unrestricted field of ever- 
new combinations of Eternal Power. 

This conception by no means interferes with 
belief in the conservation of energy nor the uni- 
versality of law. By making room for possibility, 
it adds to the wealth of ideas already possessed. 
Take, for example, the belief that through the 
goodness and justice of God I shall have what 
I deserve. I invite it, because I will that it come 
to me. When it comes, I need not accept it 
unless I choose. But the universe has done its 
part by bringing it. 



207 

Justice is therefore perfectly consistent with 
this idea of a progressing God. The possibility 
that justice may sometime be done even in our 
law courts is one of the glad hopes of the ethical 
man. Because God has not decreed that justice 
be done in all cases, because we may judge un- 
ethically if in our ignorance we so choose, is an- 
other evidence that fate is not absolute, but that 
freedom prevails, — the freedom which makes the 
Christ-life possible. Is not the existence of dis- 
ease and evil, of poverty and crime, evidence of 
this same freedom ? Then it is blasphemy to say 
he "sent it upon us," or " permitted it to come by 
his inscrutable will." He permitted us to be free, 
and by this act made us responsible for our own 
deeds, our illness, and our sin. If the Christ-life 
has any ultimate meaning, we are free to be slaves 
and sufferers as long as we will. God would be a 
God of fate indeed, if he compelled us to find our 
freedom and health before we learned either how 
to keep them or how we caused our misery and 
slavery, if he forced us to accept the Christ. 

"The childlike theist says, 'The world is gov- 
erned by a good Father.' The atheist says, ' The 
world is governed by law.' Both are wrong. 
There is no governing at all. The term ' govern- 
ing ' is a pure allegory, which in its literal signifi- 
cance does not apply to the processes of Nature. 
The truth is, there are uniformities of Nature which 



208 



can be classified in universal formulas describing 
all possible happenings of a special type. Thus 
the law of gravitation does not govern the motion 
of falling bodies and of the coursing planets, 
meteors, and suns. The law, so called, is a de- 
scriptive formula which states in the tersest way 
possible the mode of action which things of a defi- 
nite quality will take under certain conditions. 
That which makes the stone fall is the stone's 
gravity, which is an attribute of its mass ; and the 
action of the stone's gravity depends upon the 
stone's position in the universe, — mainly upon the 
gravity (i.e., the mass) of the earth. There is no 
God and no law which dictates the course of ac- 
tion, but the things act on account of the inherent 
qualities which constitute them. The world is not 
a world of slaves, but a free play of uniformities. 
There is not a metaphysical or theological power 
that forces things, be they animate or inanimate, 
to pursue a certain course ; but all things act in a 
definite and determinable way by virtue of their 
own nature. A thief steals when the occasion 
arises ; and an honest man pursues the straight 
path of righteousness, as the cat will jump at the 
mouse and the oxygen will combine with the 
carbon." * 

The free play of uniformities is such that prog- 
ress results. Man moves forward because it is 

*Paul Cams, the Monist, October, 1898. 



209 

his nature to grow, and because, so far as he is en- 
lightened, he is willing and eager to progress. In- 
stead of governing, in the sense of fixedly decree- 
ing, there is perpetual flux, continuous possibility 
put before us by the Power that moves with us, 
and is ever ready to help. Progress is an entirely 
natural result, — as natural as the Christ. And, if 
all things make for progress by virtue of their own 
nature, we are led once more to the conclusion 
that that which gives things their nature is itself 
progressing, — understanding, by this term, forward 
movement, continuous out-going, the causation and 
consciousness of change, ever-renewed activity. 

Still, some one may object that there is no 
progress, that we simply awaken to or become 
conscious of perfection and the Christ, as the fruits 
of ignorance vanish. But this is Oriental pessi- 
mism again, — a fixed Absolute, with no room for 
possibility or freedom. On such an hypothesis, 
I repeat, there is naught left for God to do. But 
if there is progress, and God moves with us while 
we progress, if he is intimately close to us, this 
life may truly be said to have an object, to have 
reason for being. He is not a cold, distant Being, 
everlastingly the same. He is the warm, loving, 
living Father, the immediate source of the ever- 
varying combinations of life and mind which make 
our universe an increasing object of wonder and 
joy. 



2IO 



It follows, therefore, that pantheism and pessi- 
mism are as untrue as fatalism ; for pantheism 
implies that the universe is one fixed piece, while 
pessimism declares it the worst piece of work that 
could ever be. They are both untrue, if there are 
finite individuals. They are false, if there is pos- 
sibility either of change or improvement. It mat- 
ters not that the pessimists have declared the uni- 
verse to be as bad as possible, and that the desire 
to live is equally vile. We go on clinging to life, 
we continue to believe in the goodness of things ; 
and we have a right so to believe. It matters not 
that the Theosophists tell me I attract conditions 
like my inner state, or Karma. The more impor- 
tant fact is the power of choice, — that which I 
may make out of my Karma. The free man exer- 
cises the right to be either receptive to, or take 
a firm stand against, what his inner condition at- 
tracts, as the wisdom of the occasion may decide. 

In the endeavor to conceive of God, therefore, 
we are led rather to start with the liveliest power 
in us. The moral law, the presence of freedom, 
of possibility, of spiritual ideals, and the existence 
of individual souls, contributing fresh ideas and 
aspiring to become the Christ, point logically to the 
existence of such a Being as I have tried to out- 
line, without assuming completely to define his 
nature. This is the logical evidence ; and I offer 
it as fresh proof of the existence of the divine 



21 I 



nature, — the free, possibility-owning, live, pro- 
gressing God, actually aware of our struggles. 

Are not the possibilities of divine communion 
and guidance, the opportunities of spiritual accom- 
plishment, marvellously enlarged by such a theory 
of ultimate Being ? Belief in law, design, teleo- 
logical power, is surely as well founded as before. 
But, instead of a fixed Designer (whose existence 
was, after all, a mere assertion), we now have an 
achieving Designer, an evolving system into which 
incidents are introduced before our very eyes. 
The special design or ideal for each of us is de- 
pendent upon just these divine promptings which 
come to us day by day, to be accepted or put off 
according to our enlightenment at the time. The 
entire universe is viewed as the advancing experi- 
ence of ultimate Being. As such, only our own 
advancing experience can know it. We are com- 
pelled to be empiricists. There is no fixed " eter- 
nal now." The universe is still viewed as one 
experience, yet one whose parts are not, so far as 
we know, fully unified, either in actual life or by 
thought. 

Is there any sound reason for doubting that ulti- 
mate, progressing Being is good, that it really 
means to help each soul to become the Christ ? If 
not, there is every reason to believe in the ultimate 
triumph of the good. The entire progressive sys- 
tem is good, including chance and the freedom it 



212 



permits us to do wrong. After all, we are simply 
stating optimism in another form. It is the belief 
that " all things work together for good for them 
that love the Lord " ; that is, for those who love the 
moral law and the Christ ideal, for those who have 
learned to move in harmony with the Cosmos. 

Behind the finite basis of optimism, therefore, 
we have found this infinite progressing Being, 
whose nature is optimistic because he is not fixed, 
but living. I do not insist upon this statement of 
even one aspect of his nature ; for it is inevitably 
pervaded by temperamental limitations, the tem- 
perament of one who loves novelty and progress. 

But may not this love of change, the fondness 
for novelty which the American people display, be 
precisely that quality of thought needed in order 
rightly to apprehend the divine nature ? If so, the 
chief contention of this book is proved. On the 
shores, among the rugged mountains, and amid the 
great natural wonders of America, a philosophy 
of individuality, progress, and optimism, shall be 
developed which shall sometime interpret the har- 
mony of the universe. The philosophy of hope, 
the ever new thought, shall prevail. Stern absolut- 
ism and dismal fatalism shall be discarded. The 
human mind shall become truly free. The God of 
progress shall be worshipped, and the noble work 
of our Puritan forefathers shall be repeated on the 
Christ-plane. At best, the philosophical and spirit- 



213 

ual life of America will indeed be but a contribu- 
tion, yet as such this knowledge shall be the 
clew to the treasure-house of truth. Out of the 
vague confusion of voices of those who now 
assume to possess the clew, the voice of hope 
speaks to the soul of the attentive. Listen and 
think and hope ; and, when the clouds of ignorance 
roll away, the mountains of virtue shall be revealed. 
God is progressing with us ; and we have naught 
to fear, who trust. Possibility is infinite. Out of 
the deeps of his eternal selfhood God forever sends 
forth the spirit, the love, the Christ power which, 
with our co-operation, shall in due season perfect 
the world. 



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